


That's Kind Of Unprofessional

by imhellaqueer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy/Echo, Clarke Griffin/Lexa - Freeform, Clexa, Modern AU, Multi, Octaven, Octavia Blake/Raven Reyes - Freeform, The 100 (TV) - Freeform, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhellaqueer/pseuds/imhellaqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke works at Grounders, one of the coolest coffee shops in town. When people aren't ordering long ass obnoxious latte's, and Clarke isn't getting called unprofessional by the one and only 'stick up her ass' Lexa, she's living with Raven and Octavia in her own apartment. Soon enough Clarke starts to see that being 'unprofessional' can lead to a change of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A new story for all of you, it's a modern AU and takes place mainly at a coffee shop. Prepare yourself for loads of angst, fluff and Raven Reyes one liners.

“Holy shit!” Raven is the first one to open the fridge, of course. “Our fridge is already loaded with food. What the hell?”

“My mum got us some groceries to start off with.” Clarke says simply as she fishes out her boxset of _Grey’s Anatomy._ “All of that has to last us two weeks. Heard me, Octavia? No making chocolate chip brownies for everyday of the week, okay?”

“Sure, mum.” She hadn’t gotten off the couch since they arrived in their apartment thirty minutes ago. Classic Octavia.

Clarke rolls her eyes and places her luggage on her bed. “Don’t you think you should start unpacking everything?”

“I’ll do it when you and Raven go to Grounders.” She follows Clarke into her room and flings herself onto her bed. “This feels so nice.”

Clarke chuckles a little as she begins hanging all her clothes in her wardrobe. “You’re so lazy, O. I honestly don’t think I’ve met someone so goddamn lazy.”

“Wrong.” Raven’s voice chimes from the outside. “There’s me.”

“True.”

“Are we going somewhere after you guys finish your shift?” Octavia whines. “I don’t want to spend my first day as an independent woman in my apartment.”

Raven jumps onto Clarke’s bed and snuggles next to Octavia. “Agreed. We should literally have an ‘independent women’ party.”

“You moved into _my_ apartment guys, the only thing that screams ‘independent’ about that is the fact that you two are going to be forced to actually cook and do laundry.” She slides her wardrobe door shut and turns around. “Which reminds me that _I’m_ probably going to have to do that too.”

There’s no argument to that.

“Anyway.” Octavia clears her throat, “We’re going out tonight. No questions asked.”

Raven whoops in agreement and Clarke crosses her arms.

“Can’t you guys do something tonight and leave me out of it?” She knew the answer before the question was asked.

Octavia cocks her eyebrow and smirks. “Do you really think we’d allow you to do that?”

“No.” Clarke pouts.

Octavia chuckles and shoves Raven off of her. “I’m going to unpack my stuff and look for something moderately appealing for tonight.”

“You’d probably look ‘appealing’ in just a potato sack, O.” Raven comments as she follows Octavia outside of the room.

“You’re never getting into my pants Reyes.” Octavia says loudly, “Stop trying.”

Clarke hears a loud shriek, a bout of laughter and reverts to closing her door to shut out their persistent (and continuous) banter.

Such _children_.

She sighs quietly and rubs her temples to adjust to her new environment.

The room was bland. No paintings or picture frames occupied the walls. Just a window and some washout curtains. If she was going to be living in this place for the next couple of years, she was definitely going to have to liven it up.

She had brought some of her favourite paintings along with her and was planning on pinning them up around the room. At least that way the room wouldn’t look like it was owned by someone’s seventy year old aunt.

Clarke had decided to buy her own apartment instead of living in the college dorms, and since she didn’t like the idea of living alone she invited the most immature yet lovable people she knew to come live with her. She really didn’t have much to complain about.

There was no denying how real things had become in a matter of seconds.

Clarke was going to college.

She was essentially starting a new life.

She could forget about her stupid little flings over the summer that meant absolutely nothing and the one person who tore her heart into little pieces. Now, she could focus on what was really important; herself.

This was what she needed to turn her life around. She needed to be independent; she needed to stop holding all of those grudges and just start accepting everything for what it was.

Clarke needed to get her shit together.

Soon enough a loud buzz from her phone interrupted her trail of thought.

Her mum was calling.

A hint of a smile appeared on Clarke’s face before she picked up her phone.

“Hey.” She said softly.

“Clarke.” Her mum’s voice resonated through the speaker, “How’s the apartment?”

Clarke took a second to look around her room, “The apartment’s okay. My room needs a little bit of life in it because it seriously feels like someone got murdered in here.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It just needs some decorations. It’s too much of a reminder of how new this is, and it doesn’t feel like it could ever be my home.” She shrugs, “Anyway, how are you?”

“Not too bad.” She hears her mother breathe in, “I didn’t think I would begin to miss you so soon after you left home.”

“Mum.” Clarke quietened her voice, “I live twenty minutes away from you, and I’ll visit you and the love of your life whenever I can.”

“Clarke.” Her mum’s stern voice instantly made a smug smile appear on Clarke’s face. “Would you stop calling him that? Marcus and I are just friends.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and clutched her phone harder. “I still don’t get how you’ve been ‘friends’ for the last two years. I know you two have been going out for a while now, you don’t have to treat me like I’m a kid. I get it.”

“We _are_ just friends.” Her mum insists.

“He’s your neighbour, and you visit him pretty much every day. You look like you might explode every time you’re in a room together.” She runs her free hand through her hair, “It doesn’t take someone with the minimal requirement of the gift of sight to see that you two aren’t just friends.”

She hears her mum sigh and decides that she should probably leave the topic alone. “Anyway, I have to go to work soon so I need to get going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye. Text me when you get back from work.”

“I will.”

She throws her phone on her bed and shakes her head a little.

There was no more time to let herself relax into her room, she had to walk it to work in the next couple of minutes or she’d have to find someone else to pay her bills.

She put on her uniform and grabbed her phone.

“Raven!” Clarke called out as she entered the kitchen, “We need to get going. Where are you?”

“In here.” She hears a voice from the room behind her and walks towards it.

Clarke frowns as she enters the smaller room, “Isn’t this Octavia’s room?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke notices Raven’s luggage placed in the middle of room and just shrugs it off. She decides that this is one of the many instances where she should just shut her mouth and not question anything.

Raven and Octavia where her best friends, and she had gotten used to the awkward feeling that she got when she was around them and the abundance of questions that would always find a way into her mind. Sometimes, there were just moments where she _really_ had to convince herself not to ask any questions – she needed to remind herself not to go there.

It was none of her business.

“We have work in less than 10 minutes.” Clarke’s fingers incessantly tap the door next to her. “Be ready in two.”

Raven nodded and gave Octavia a big hug. “See you tonight, don’t forget to make something to eat for yourself - I’m not going to be the one cleaning up your puke when you have one too many shots of tequila.”

Octavia laughs and closes the door behind her.

Raven follows Clarke outside of the apartment, “This apartment is the _shit_.”

**

Thirty minutes into her shift and she had already started to mess up her orders.

“I wanted a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle.” A girl with an insatiable look on her face crossed her arms in front of Clarke, “Where the hell is my caramel drizzle?”

Clarke pursed her lips, “We don’t have any ‘caramel drizzle’ here.”

“Seriously?” She was obnoxious, this one. “This isn’t what I paid six fifty for, I want a refund.”

Clarke took a deep breath in and tried to be as polite as possible. “We don’t do refunds here, unfortunately.”

“Bullshit!” The girl slams her latte on the counter and leans in. “I want my money back.”

She was starting to attract a lot of attention, having half of the customers staring right at them. “If I were to do that, I’d be risking my job.”

“Does it really look like I care?”

“No.” Clarke’s hands clench into fists. “But I actually _do_ care about my job, so you’re either going to take your stupid ass latte and fuck off or I’m going to have to kick you out of this place myself.”

The girls gives Clarke one more glare before grabbing her latte and dumping it in the bin next to her. She stomps outside of the place and shuts the door angrily behind her.

Some of the people who came here were absolute idiots.

“That wasn’t very professional.”

Clarke whips her head to see an unfamiliar face.

A firm looking girl with fairly tanned skin, braids and fierce green eyes was staring back at her. One of her eyebrows was raised slightly and nothing about the way she was looking at her told Clarke that she was joking. She hadn’t seen such a serious face in a long time.

“Excuse me?” She tries to keep her voice even, especially since she was still a little heated from the customer before.

“You shouldn’t have sworn at her.” The girl chastises her as she cleans the mug she was holding. “It was uncalled for.”

Clarke narrows her eyes at the tall girl in front of her, “Don’t you think the whole argument was uncalled for? Do you even know what she ordered?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugs, “You can’t bite every customer’s head off.”

“Do I know you?” Her voice strains slightly as she once again tries to keep her cool.

“I’m new here.” She comments as she places the newly cleaned mug inside the cupboard underneath them.

Clarke itches her chin and reaffirms her position in front of the counter, “So why are you telling me how to do my job, exactly?”

The girl eyes her carefully and almost makes Clarke feel slightly intimidated. There was something about the way this girl was glaring at her that put Clarke more on edge then she should have been. “I wasn’t aware that stating something obvious was telling someone how to do their job.”

That was enough for Clarke to immediately mark the girl as someone she should avoid. Everything about her reeked of uncertainty and it struck a fierce anger she didn’t even know she was capable of feeling so quickly after an interaction with someone.

Then again, Clarke didn’t want to start anymore arguments so she just shook her head and walked away from the counter.

She spotted Raven close to the storage room and walked up to her.

“Honestly, whoever the hell lives up there hates me more than I thought.” Clarke softly hits her head against the wall in front of her.

Raven cocks an eyebrow, “What’s up with you?”

“Oh nothing. Some people just seem to have a stick shoved so far up their ass that they forgot any form of manners whatsoever.” Clarke crosses her arms.

“Do you mean that customer you just told to fuck off?” She asks as she gets out some coffee beans from the storage room.

“Yes.” She says quietly, “And some new girl just told me how ‘unprofessional’ it was of me to do so.”

Raven drops the coffee beans in to the machine in front of her, “It kind of was.”

“Whatever.” Clarke huffs, “Caramel drizzle my ass, I bet if she had someone ask for such an idiotic order she’d have done more then tell someone to piss off.”

“Maybe.” She waits for the machine to do its work and leans against the table. “Who’s this you’re talking about anyway? What new girl?”

Clarke jerks her head to the left, “The girl on the counter over there. She’s got some wicked braids.”

“Oh.” Raven smirks, “That’s Lexa.”

“Lexa?”

“Yeah.” She pours the coffee into a cup and puts some sugar in it. “She tries to avoid talking to anyone at all costs. I had about 3 shifts with her this week.”

Clarke scoffs, “She had no trouble talking to me.”

Raven shrugs and hands the cup of coffee to the customer in front of her, a fake smile along with it. “At least she’s hot.”

Clarke groans, “ _Not_ the point, Raven.”

She shoots Clarke a smirk and cocks her eyebrow once again, “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

“I was more focused on the fact that she’s a nosy bitch.” Clarke replied as she leaned against the counter.

“Sure.” Raven winked at her and walked away.

Clarke got back to her work and took someone else’s order. (It wasn’t a caramel drizzle latte this time, thank god.)

For some reason she couldn’t get the argument that she had with Lexa out of her mind. The fact that she riled Clarke up so much was a mystery to her.

Maybe it was some kind of coincidence that she had found Lexa staring at her when she turned around to prepare another order.

And maybe it wasn’t.

**

Lexa _wasn’t_ feeling bad.

She had absolutely no reason to, there was nothing wrong with telling off the blonde for shouting at that customer so harshly.

It was rude.

Lexa didn’t like rude.

Still, she found herself feeling slightly sympathetic for her. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, maybe she should have just let it be.

_Stop feeling sorry for someone who you don’t even know. Get over it, Lexa._

Right.

She just needed to focus on the task on hand.

Serve customers. Get paid. Go home. Study.

Lexa had absolutely no time to waste. She was about to start college in two days and that meant that from here on out she had to just focus on her studies.

Law was with no doubt not an easy subject, and Lexa needed to be the very best. Not for anyone else but herself, if she didn’t focus on what she really needed to do, she would fall back into feeling everything she had taught herself not to feel.

She couldn’t deal with that.

“Hey!” A young boy snaps his fingers in front of her, “You there lady?”

“Yes.” She replies through gritted teeth.

Maybe this was harder than she thought it would be.

“I want a Tall half-calf soy latte.” He asks as he taps his fingers impatiently on the counter.

She frowns, what the hell is that? “A what?

“ _Tall half-calf soy latte_.” He repeats his eyes narrowing down onto her.

She nods, “Just a second, sir.”

She had no idea what the hell a ‘tall half-calf soy latte’ was, but her inexperience was justifiable – she was after all quite new around here. Someone around here had to know.

The only person she could spot around her was the blonde girl, and she thought it would be a better idea to not interact with her. She was still receiving some of the ugliest looks from her.

Lexa made her way to the back of the room and saw someone she knew. Raven.

Usually, she’d keep her distance from the annoying and persistent girl who always tried to get Lexa to utter more than five words in a whole shift. “Raven?” She keeps her face stoic and unfeeling. “I need your help with an order.”

“Ah the mysterious one comes to me.” She covers her face with her hands, “This must be some kind of miracle.”

Lexa clears her throat and ignores Raven’s vexatious comments. “Do you know what a tall half-calf soy latte is, by any chance?”

Raven sighs and wipes her brow with her hand, “Wow. We’re attracting a lot of idiots here today, aren’t we?”

She says nothing, only raises her eyebrow.

“How do I make it?”

She shrugs. “You don’t. Go tell the guy that he’s not at Starbucks.”

Lexa sighs and walks back to the counter. Of course, Raven wouldn’t be of any assistance.

“Unfortunately we don’t seem to have such an order listed here.” She gives him a fake smile and waits for him to walk away.

Except he doesn’t.

“What do you mean you don’t have that order?” His brow was furrowed and he seemed much less giddy than before.

This was definitely not an easy job.

“I mean, there’s no such thing here.”

He doesn’t seem to understand the statement. “What type of coffee shop is this?”

“One where you buy coffee from, I believe.” She couldn’t help but let that sly comment pass.

“Don’t be a smart ass.” He hisses, “I want to know what type of shit hole doesn’t sell something so simple.”

Before she could reply, someone else swoops in.

“The type of shit hole that kicks you out if you harass one of our staff.” Lexa turns her head to see the blonde girl leaning over the counter to speak to the boy. “Which by the way, you have.”

He breaths in deeply, reluctantly gets up from his chair and walks out of the coffee shop.

Lexa feels a surge of pride course through her veins as she eyes the blonde carefully. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have handled him myself.”

“Well, before you call me unprofessional – I believe the word people use is ‘thank you’.” She grabs the cloth from underneath her and cleans the counter. “Unlike you, I’m used to the usual jerks that come to this place and I know how to deal with them.”

She doesn’t see any other way she can back herself up this time. In some way, she feels grateful for what she did. Even if it made her levels of annoyance rise up by a stark amount.

“Fine.” She says as she nods her head. “Thank you.”

 _God_ , how Lexa wished she wasn’t so attractive.

**

Thirty more minutes and she could leave the daunting presence of miss its ‘unprofessional’ Lexa.

She hadn’t stopped staring at her and it was starting to get a little creepy.

Every time she turned around to make an order or just go to the storage room for a five minute break, she’d find her staring at her. Eyes wide, lips almost parted.

It was starting to annoy the shit out of her.

Firstly, she had gone out of her way to tell some douchebag to leave her alone, and she literally had to coax a ‘thank you’ out of her. There was no way someone could be so conceited.

It wasn’t until a large amount of people walked into the shop did she realise that Lexa’s eyes were no longer on her. She was curiously eying the boisterous crowd and it seemed like she was quite displeased with their presence.

Great

Now _she_ was staring.

_What the hell, Clarke?_

“Damn.” She hears a familiar voice in front of her. “You look good in a uniform.”

Octavia was sitting on the stool in front of her, a tight black dress hugging her figure perfectly. Scratch the time Clarke had a tiny crush on her, she was just plain jealous right now. “Thanks, I didn’t know I could look so good.” Her sarcasm is on point.

“What’s up with you being so grumpy?” She asked as she pouted her bottom lip.

Clarke rubbed her temples, “Just a hell of a day.”

“Well, I’m here to make it worse.” She grins, “Coffee. Just Black, and a chocolate muffin.”

Clarke smirks and takes down the order, preparing it in front of her. “What? Too simple for you?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for a simple order like that.” She poured the coffee into a small cup and prepared the chocolate muffin. “Have you ever heard of something called a ‘caramel drizzle’?”

She frowned and shook her head.

“Yeah.” She scrunched her nose up, “Me either.”

Octavia gave her a confused look before downing her coffee. “Everyone’s here, we’re waiting for you and Raven to finish up and change.”

Clarke glances across the counter and sees that indeed the boisterous group of people who had just entered were in fact her friends. “I’m soon ready. Just fifteen more minutes.”

“Hey Clarke?” Octavia asks absentmindedly.

“Hmm?”

“Who’s the cute barista staring at us like we killed her first born child?”

Of course.

She’s still staring.

“That’s Lexa.” She spits out her name. “Don’t get too close, she might use the stick up her ass to attack you.”

Octavia almost chokes on her muffin. “Jesus Clarke. What did she do to you?”

“It’s a long story.” Clarke looks at her watch and wipes her hands on a piece of cloth. “She’s just really arrogant.”

She nods warily and continues eating her muffin.

“I’m going to go change.” Clarke takes off her apron and crumples it in her hand, “I’ll be back.”

**

Lexa couldn’t be happier to have her shift end sooner.

Also, she finds herself staring at blondie a lot.

It’s not her fault, she can’t help it.

It’s kind of creepy.

She knows.

“Hey there.”

A light voice grabs her attention and she turns her head around.

A man with scruffy black hair and freckles leans against the counter. “Could I have a cappuccino please?”

She can’t help but smile at him, “Sure. Would you like any sugar with it?”

“No.” He smiles, “Its fine.”

She nods and leaves to make his order.

Finally, someone decent enough to order something that she could actually spell. Maybe today wouldn’t be all that bad.

She comes back with his order to see him talking to a very attractive girl. The same one who was talking to blondie earlier. She’s dressed up in something that’s definitely not appropriate for a coffee shop but finds that they’re both dressed for a different occasion. “Here you go. That would be three dollars.”

He hands her a five and gives her another smile.

She could really learn to like this guy.

Lexa gives him a smile back and places the tip inside her pocket. She notices that the girl next to him is looking at her somewhat strangely.

“Hey.” She finally says, still eying her carefully.

“Hi.”

“Are you the one that works with Clarke?”

“Who?”

The brunette points to the blonde girl exiting the storage room in a crop top and a skirt.

That’s quite a nice name.

Rather peculiar, but nice.

“Oh. Yes, I believe so.” Lexa tries to hide her face and looks down at the counter, viscously avoiding her stare. “Are you two her friends?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She replies with a little chuckle.

The nice guy who probably just did her income a massive favour shoved the girl next to him lightly, “What she means is yes we’re her friends.” He cocks his head to the girl next to him, “And she was dropped on her head as a kid so don’t mind her.”

Seriously, this guy was like a gift from god.

“I’m Bellamy, by the way.” He takes his hand out of his pocket and over the counter.

She grabs it and shakes his hand, “I’m Lexa.”

“And.” She grunts as she takes out her hand, “I’m Octavia.”

As nice as this Bellamy guy was, she was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with all the small talk. She shakes Octavia’s hand and gives her an awkward smile.

Before anyone could exchange more gruesome and awkward smiles, Raven and Clarke interrupted them. Thankfully.

“Are you ready to leave?” Clarke sounded more annoyed than ever.

Bellamy and Octavia nodded.

“Nice meeting you Lexa.” He gives her another smile.

His smiles are kind of infectious so she ended up smiling back.

Again.

“Wow.” Raven exclaims, mouth agape. “I’ve never seen you smile before, two miracles in one day. Holy shit!”

Lexa’s smile disappears as soon as it appeared and all Raven is left with is one of Lexa’s placid facial expressions.

By the time all of them start walking out, she notices that Clarke remained where she was.

She gives her a confused look and leans her head to the side.

“I see you’ve met my friends.” The way Clarke looks at her makes her want to duck her head under the cupboard and hide there for ever.

She won’t _obviously_ , she’s a mature adult.

“Yes.”

Clarke looks at her for a couple more seconds before breaking the stare, “I don’t believe that to be very professional.”

There’s a hint of a smirk on her face and she walks away from Lexa without another word.

And _god._

Lexa might just be smiling too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stick up her ass Lexa keeps making appearances in Clarke's life and it's pissing her off - big time.

Alarms. 

Clarke didn’t need one.

Raven and Octavia however? They needed more than just an ‘alarm’.

She bangs on Octavia’s door loudly, “Wake the hell up now if you know what’s good for you.” No one says anything. “I will not hesitate to use the water bucket.”

Still nothing.

“Seriously.” She clears her throat, “We’ve been down this road before.”

Finally, she hears a grunt and a couple of heavy footsteps before the door flies open in front of her. Except, it’s not exactly who she was expecting to see. “Raven?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is hoarse and she was looking at Clarke as if she wouldn’t hesitate to murder her right there. “What do you want?”

“A ride to college, idiot.”

Raven’s eyes burst wide open in alarm, “Oh. Yeah.”

Clarke resists the massive temptation to roll her eyes. This, was clearly something she would have to get used to; inefficiency, people pissing her off too early in the morning and having to wonder why the hell her best friend was not using her own room. “You do realise the apartment has three rooms, yes?”

“Octavia wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so I slept next to her.” Raven shrugs, “She’s still asleep.”

“I told her that last vodka shot was too much.” Clarke yawns and signals for Raven to wake Octavia up.

Raven frowns, “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because _I_ sure as hell am not.” Clarke gives her a sickly sweet smile and walks back to her room friskily.

Shifts were a no-go on Sundays so she had the whole day to herself yesterday. She, Octavia and Raven spent the whole day watching ‘ _Grey’s Anatomy_ ’. They had managed to reach up to the point where Meredith slept with George before Octavia decided to regurgitate all of yesterday’s tequila.

Hungover Octavia was not the best Octavia to be around.

Clarke quickly changed into a black tank top and skinny jeans, determined that her first day would not be compiled with a bunch of ‘shit we’re late!’ or ‘Octavia threw up on my jacket!’ Those two had better get their shit together, because Clarke was not having any of it. Not today.

Bag on her back and phone in her hand, she walked into Octavia (or Raven’s?) room and busted in.

There were clothes all over the floor and empty beer bottles scattered amongst them, left there for anyone to trip on, the small twin bed was coated with a mountain of accessories and (more) clothes. The room reeked of a mixture of sweat, smoke and the remnants of regret.

“Nice to see you’ve made yourself at home, O.” Clarke directed her knowing glance at her and huffed. “This better be cleaned up by the time I come back from my shift today.”

Octavia who was looking like someone punched her in the gut fifteen times that very second, just nodded her head slowly.

“Also, how the hell are you still hungover?” Clarke inquired, yet only to receive the grace of Octavia’s middle finger.

Clarke shrugged and left her room to meet Raven in the kitchen, “Cranky _and_ hungover Octavia is driving us to college today. Do you think that’s the best idea?”

“Probably not, but we don’t have any other way of getting there.” Raven said as she poured some milk into the bowl in front of her. “Anyway, I already have one brace on my leg – if we all get into an accident we can be brace buddies.” She signals to the piece of metal wrapped around her right leg.

She rolled her eyes but tried her best to avert her eyes from the metal that enabled Raven’s proper movement. Clarke didn’t like talking about it, Octavia absolutely hated talking about it and Raven made as many jokes as she could about it.

Maybe it was the only way she could cope with it, or just the fact that she could take the piss out of anything made her feel as if it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Like she had some sort of control over something very evidently, she didn’t.

But Clarke remembered the anguish that Raven went through, she remembered the way her mother decided to say ‘fuck all’ to her daughter’s health. No, unfortunately she couldn’t forget the weeks of excruciating pain that her best friend had to endure, and she couldn’t forget the way she cried when she heard that her mother hadn’t shown up.

Raven was alone and she was hurt and Clarke will not forget that.

She knows none of them will.

“Earth to Clarke?” Raven hastily snaps her fingers in front of Clarke, “You in there?”

Clarke jolts her head towards Raven and smiles at her, “Yeah, just a little dazed today.” The lie slipped so easily out of her mouth that she feared it would become a habit.

Raven laughs, “You and O alike.”

She nudged Raven in the ribs and scoffs when she winces in pain.

“Bitch.”

Clarke winks at her and just for a second, she wonders what she’d do without her.

**

“Just so you know, it’s totally uncalled for that I have to sit at the back.” Clarke lets her head lull over on the window sill, “I was the one that found the apartment in the first place.”

“You haven’t earned the right to sit at the front.” Raven calls back, “It requires a certain sucking up to Octavia the greatest.”

Octavia honks her car horn in agreement, gaining a questioning look from both Clarke and Raven. “Sorry, the coffee hyped me up.”

“At least you don’t look like someone ran over you fifty times this morning.”

“Never know how to mince your words, do you Clarke Griffin?” Octavia shoots a little smirk through the mirror in front of her and Clarke bares her teeth right back.

Raven shifts in her seat a little so that she can look at Clarke well, “You do realise that you could have your own car by now, don’t you?”

Clarke ignores her.

“You’re denying free money.”

“It’s not ‘denying free money’ if I want to be independent.” Clarke argues, “I don’t want to have to rely on my mum’s money to do everything, I want to earn my own money and make my own changes. I’m eighteen years old, I can take care of myself.”

“Or.” Raven turns around with a smug smile stapled onto her face, “You’re just very stupid.”

Octavia laughs and tries her best to hide it. But fails. Quite horribly.

She groans and tries to blot out Octavia and Raven’s insufferable laughter.

Sometimes, Clarke would find herself slightly distanced from Octavia and Raven. They were all best friends from a young age, they met in kindergarten when Octavia threw the last piece of cake at Clarke’s head and Raven decided it was pretty funny so she just ‘laughed’. This ensued in Clarke throwing a tantrum and Octavia and Raven feeling bad.

Obviously, Clarke wasn’t really sad. She was _acting_.

To be quite honest, four year old Clarke couldn’t give a crap about a piece of cake.

So from then onwards Clarke, Raven and Octavia decided that they’d better stick together. They grew up next to one another, spent most nights at each other’s houses and learnt that boys weren’t as disgusting as they used to be.

It was all smooth until they reached the tender age of 11.

There was a certain closeness between Raven and Octavia that baffled Clarke. She couldn’t understand why they hugged so much, why they looked at each other with a special glint in their eyes and she didn’t know why she was feeling like there was something missing.

So for a long time she decided – they were just closer. They had a stronger connection with each other. Nothing to fuss about, nothing Clarke could do anything about.

And sometimes, she thinks it’s more than that.

Sometimes she thinks that there’s more than what meets the eye.

Those are the days were Clarke smiles and laughs discreetly. Because she _knows_.

She knows something they don’t.

**

“First tip for college; don’t act like your usual broody and awkward self, or people are going to think you’re a loser.”

Lexa rolls her eyes as she hangs onto her phone, “Thanks, Anya. Always the sweet talker.”

Her cousin scoffs, “Come on, this is your time to actually get out there.” She pauses, “Make _friends_.” She adds in a patronising tone.

“Anya.” Lexa tries to find the key to her dorm room, “I can handle my own social life, without you pushing me to ‘mingle’ with every single idiot in this place.”

“Is that why you’ve had no friends since Costia?”

The name sends a new string of pain inside of her that she forgot existed. She closes her eyes tightly for a couple of seconds before opening them again. “Don’t talk about her.”

“Sorry.” She hears Anya’s whisper escape out of the receiver.

Lexa says nothing in response, only stares at the wind-beaten door in front of her. Their conversations always hit an abrupt stop whenever her name came up.

Anya sighs, “All I’m saying is that you can’t go on just talking to Lincoln, Gus and I. We’re your family – we’re _always_ going to be there for you. You know I’ll beat up anyone who touches my little cousin.” She clears her throat, “But you need to make friends. Not for the sake of looking like some socialite, but because it’s important. There are good people out there.”

“I’m sure there are.” Lexa replies in a bored tone, “I’ve got to go now.”

She hears a muffle of a sound before Anya’s reply comes in, “Okay. Don’t think I won’t check up on you, now that we’re on the same campus.”

Lexa wishes Anya could see her eyes roll to the back of her head. Alas, they were only connected through a phone line. “Great.”

Before she could hear another dig from Anya she hung up on her.

She was so sick and tired of hearing the same drone from everyone for the last year. She was absolutely _fine_. **So** she didn’t have friends, the only friends she knew in her life did not stay. Everyone left, and she knows by now not to care about that.

Life is fragile and she has no time to let herself get battered over that fact any more.

What matters, is what she _does_ with her life. Not who she meets, not who she becomes ‘friends’ with. So many people have left in her life that she has given up on anyone else. She had to be strong. Friends were a distraction; incessant reminders that you’re not getting along with your life.

That you’re holding back.

Lexa Woods is going to become a successful criminal lawyer. She is going to focus her time and her passion on that. Not anyone else.

If people couldn’t understand that, _she didn’t care_.

The only people who needed to be present in her life were her family. A family that although do not belong to her, are imperative to her wellbeing. _Family_. _That_ was important. Not people, not friends – not people who can so easily creep out of your life when you don’t notice it.

She knows what she’s doing.

And she doesn’t need the constant reminder that she’s going to suffer for it. That she has forgotten to deal with something so gruelling and so _horrible_ , that she has forgotten herself.

Lexa knows who she wants to be.

And if people don’t like it.

 _She couldn’t care less_.

**

“Some guy called Wick thought it was okay to stare at my butt.” Raven ate her last fry and licked her fingers, “So I told him that _he_ had an ugly butt.”

Clarke frowns at her as she reaches for her water, “Okay? How does that relate to the conversation we were just having?”

“Well.” Raven burps and then hits Octavia on the head when she laughs, “I lied. He had a spectacular butt.”

“Still completely abstract from our conversation.”

She shrugs and yawns, “You complaining about your pre-med course is not a conversation. Neither is talking about the bug you thought you saw in your burrito.”

Octavia laughs, “She’s just in a bad mood because that hot barista pissed her off the other day.” She winks at her slowly, “Got her all hot and bothered.”

Jasper sits up in his seat, “Who?”

“That is a lie and you know it.” Clarke shot a frown in Octavia’s direction and ignored Jasper’s comment as she reached for the bag next to her, “I honestly cannot give a crap about arrogant stick up her ass Lexa, okay? She’s just an annoying co-worker I thankfully only have to see at work. That’s all.”

“Sure bud.” Octavia smirks and raises her eyebrow comically. “At least we all can admit she’s pretty hot.”

Raven nods her head vigorously, “ _So_ hot.”

“Still don’t know who this hot barista is.” Jasper interjects once again, trying to get in between Octavia and Raven’s daring looks.

Monty grabs Jasper from his tee shirt, “Do you honestly think Maya would be happy if she heard you were freaking out over some hot barista?”

“I want to know for Clarke’s sake.” He replies coolly, “Not mine you twerp.”

Monty smirks, “I know, just checking.”

Clarke grunts and rolls her eyes at their pointless banter, “Why does it matter whether I find her attractive or not?”

“Because you’re trying to deny something you wouldn’t if she hadn’t pissed you off.” She places her head on her hands and watched Clarke carefully, “If you ask me, you act like she killed your fucking dog when in reality she just told you off once. You’re over exaggerating.”

Jasper and Monty excitedly watch Clarke blow up.

“I’m not over exaggerating!” Clarke retorts. She realises half of the people in the cafeteria are staring at her and smiles sheepishly at them. “She’s rude and I just want nothing to do with her, okay?” She lowers her voice and tries her best to keep her cool.

Raven looks at Octavia and cocks her eyebrow.

“What?”

Octavia looks back at Clarke and taps her finger on Clarke’s forehead, “We’re just messing with you, blondie. No need to get all fussy.”

Her last comment pisses her off even more, but she decides that getting all flustered over someone who – at the end of the day – had no real impact on her life was useless. She just needed to let it go, and just remember that being ‘unprofessional’ in the eyes of a stranger did not need to matter.

“I’m going to get to class early.” She stands up and grabs her bag beside her, “English lit is not my strong suit.” Her legs are aching to rush away from her friends, there was a certain frustration bubbling up inside her that she did not want to feed.

Thankfully, they leave her be and wave her off. “Be here by 3, or you’re not getting a ride home.”

She walked away from the loud mass of laughter that followed after it and up the narrow stairs into the hallway leading to the class rooms. She needed to avoid anyone who would try to have a conversation with her. She did not want to talk to anyone right now.

She just wanted to be alone.

Clarke walked in to the classroom, dumped her bag on the floor and sat down in one of the chairs close to the front.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily. “Fucking Octavia and Raven. Annoying little balls of stupidity and annoyance.” She whispered to herself. The blasphemy went on for a couple of seconds until she heard someone clear their throat.

Alarmed, she looks to the side to see the horror of all horrors.

_Seriously?_ _**Her**?_

Fierce green eyes are looking back at her quizzically and for a second Clarke thinks she might just die of embarrassment.

All Clarke does is stare at her.

 _She’s_ here.

In the same bloody college.

In the same bloody class.

She was _not_ just that one annoying co-worker. She just _had_ to be her classmate too, sitting directly next to her – of course.  

_Just fucking great._

Of all the people she could have been placed next to, of _all_ the lessons she could have been in – her strongly opinionated co-worker had to be there. If irony was not present in her life before it sure as hell was present now. No freaking doubt.

Lexa frowns at Clarke and turns her head away from her, shaking her head slightly as she did so.

Clarke almost says something.

 _Almost_.

The other day, Clarke had actually smiled at Lexa. It wasn’t even supposed to be a friendly smile, but it came out that way. And now, she feels like she should say something. Maybe just a nod of recognition, or a little jokey ‘I really don’t like you’ look, if she was feeling up to it.

But today, she was the last person she had wanted to see. Clarke could probably write a whole thesis about the reasons she strongly dislikes Lexa, and she could probably do that right here in her head but decides that cursing God, Jesus and every single saint she remembers from her grandma’s religious relics for her unfortunate and ironic situation was the better way to go.

And for some reason, she is torn between knowing if she really doesn’t truly _hate_ this Lexa person – or if she just hates the way Lexa seems to size her up in the matter of two seconds.

**

“She doesn’t even bother to say hi!” Clarke grumbles as she fastens her seatbelt quickly, “Just looks at me as if I shat on her favourite piece of artwork.”

Raven and Octavia probably asked for the mountain of complaints that ensued from Clarke’s mouth, but that didn’t stop them from only half listening to what she was saying. “You didn’t greet her either, I’m guessing.”

“Of course not.” Clarke scoffed, “Why would I do that?”

Raven sighs and turns around slightly, “Look, if she’s pissing you off so much just pretend she doesn’t exist. It’s not that hard considering the fact that she looks like she would go ape shit over just the mere possibility of having a conversation with someone”

After realizing that she had probably spent the majority of the day complaining about every single thing that came to her mind, Clarke decided that shutting up would be the best idea.

“Anyway.” Octavia breaks through quickly, “How was everyone’s first day of college?”

Raven suddenly goes into a full blown detailed description of the amount of work her physics class consisted of and the amount of times Wick tried to ask her out and by the time she started talking about the marvellous abundance of frat boys – it was Clarke who was now only half listening.

**

Lexa was feeling bad.

 _Again_.

Maybe she should have asked her what was wrong. She shouldn’t have looked at her like that, she should have been nicer.

She was just startled.

The second she saw the blonde rush into the classroom and sit down on the seat next to her, her tongue was caught in her throat. She didn’t expect to see her at the same college, let _alone_ the same classroom. _Next_ to her.

_No Lexa, you don’t have time to care about how someone is feeling. You don’t have time to question the possibility of why someone you work with goes to the same college as you – attends the same class as you. You don’t have the time because none of it matters._

Lexa shakes her head as she opens her dorm room and throws her bag on the floor.

Matters were not going the way she planned them out to be.

**

For once, things were running smoothly at work.

No obnoxious orders.

No sassy co-workers.

No _Lexa_.

That was of course, until she walked into the shop in her uniform. Obviously, something had to constantly bite Clarke in the ass.

Clarke’s life could probably be filmed as some kind of reality sit-com. ‘How to piss off Clarke Griffin’ _that_ would be a good name. Or maybe, ‘Clarke complains with a side of caramel drizzle.’ Yeah. That one sounded like it would be a hit series.

She decided that ignoring Lexa’s existence would serve her well for the rest of the shift. All she had to do was avoid the fact that Lexa was a living, breathing and sassy human being and she would be set! Just like that. Simple.

Except bumping into her with a 20 pound bag of coffee beans did not really scream ‘I’m avoiding the fact that you exist’, now did it?

Their bodies collide in the most artless way Clarke had ever witnessed and within a couple of seconds, coffee beans are surrounding Lexa as she falls back onto the floor.

_Oh my god._

“I’m really sorry!” She gasps as she tries to help Lexa up, forgetting for a couple of minutes that she visibly disliked her. “I didn’t see you there, happens all the time.” She chuckles.

Bad move.

Lexa (who was clearing her uniform of all the spilled coffee beans) stared at Clarke blankly. The same stoic and unfeeling expression she had always seen on Lexa. Unchangeable.

Clarke picked up the torn bag of coffee beans and feels the heat rush to her cheeks, “It doesn’t actually happen all the time.”

She still looks at Clarke as if she just gave her a three hour long lecture.

“I was just kidding.” She continues awkwardly.

Still nothing.

She looks down at the mess on the floor and decides that cleaning up the mass of coffee beans would be a better use of her time. “Uh, I better clean this up.” Clarke looks back up at Lexa before giving her a sheepish look, “Sorry about that again.”

Before she retreats back to the storage room she hears a firm voice. “I’ll help.”

Clarke is taken aback at her sudden response but allows Lexa to follow her anyway, “The brooms are behind that box of sugar over there.” She points at the little box on top of the ancient looking table.

Lexa walks back with two brooms in her hand and gives one to Clarke.

“Thanks.” Clarke smiles at Lexa and goes to fetch the dustpan.

She walks back to see most of the mess cleared up, a little pile of coffee beans moved to the centre and both brooms leaning on the storage room door.

“Oh.” Clarke says. “Okay.”

They clear up the mess in silence and put everything back in its place.

Clarke finds that all the things she wanted to say to Lexa the day before have now dissipated in her head and she is left with nothing. She wants to start up a conversation and defeat the awkward tension that they are both swimming in, but it seems like Lexa wants to do the complete opposite of that.

“So you go to Ark College then?”

Really? That was the best she could come up with?

The girl looks at her as if she wanted to do anything but continue their very one sided conversation. “I’m asking because I saw you in my English Lit class today.”

“Yes.” She purses her lips.

“Do you like literature?” God what the hell Clarke? Anything better than ‘do you like the subject you’re deciding to choose’ would be great right now.

Lexa itches the back of her neck and for a second her eyes flicker onto Clarke’s, “Yes, it’s an interesting subject.”

Clarke nods slowly and bites down on her bottom lip. “Are you going to do anything with it in the future?”

She thinks she hears the remnants of a sigh escape Lexa’s lips, but tries to over-look that. “No. I’m planning to major in law.” Before Clarke can say anything else however, she is already looking away from her. “If you’d excuse me, I need to go back to the counter.”

Without one more word, Clarke is left standing alone ultimately speechless in front of the storage room. And for the second time that day, Clarke is found to be internally cursing at the girl with the wicked braids and the captivating green eyes.

**

If Lexa could rewind one certain moment in her life – she definitely would.

She’d rewind it up to the point where Clarke asked her about going to Ark College and she’d reply with a neat nod and maybe if she could manage it, a small smile.

But no.

There was no way Lexa could do anything like that.

She was absolutely tongue tied and useless.

She could have said something along the lines of ‘small world’ and then give her one of those tacky chuckles like normal people do, but Lexa was clearly not made to socialise.

Little awkward Lexa grew up into really tall but _still_ awkward Lexa.

There was a part of her that really didn’t want to engage in any type of conversation with Clarke – and there was the other part of her that just couldn’t.

“Hey again.”

Lexa whips her head around to see Bellamy – Clarke’s friend.

“Hello.” She replies politely, and even finds a way to give him a small smile.

_I guess you must really hate Clarke then._

“What would you like to order?” She asks him as she gets ready to set out a menu, “We have some special home-made brownies prepared today, and a special offer for them.”

Bellamy shakes his head lightly, “No need for that, just a cappuccino – no sugar please.”

She notices that he chuckles slightly as she prepares the cappuccino in front of him.

“Trying to keep the business booming, I see?” He asks as he waits for his order.

“Not exactly.” Lexa shrugs as she pours the cappuccino into a small cardboard cup, “I just really need to get home early today so I’m trying to sell everything that I can.”

He clicks his fingers and nods, “Busy?”

“Always.” She hands him the cappuccino, and places a neat little napkin under it. “Three dollars, please.”

He fishes through his pocket and produces a five dollar note. “ _Five_ dollars is what you get.” His eyes crinkle whilst he grins and he laughs discreetly at Lexa’s brightened up face.

“Just so you know, I’m probably going to be the source of your income.” He sips his cappuccino and lightly taps his fingers on the counter, humming a little song.

“Well then, thank you.” She grabs a piece of cloth from under the counter and used it to polish the coffee machine. “You’re paying for my college tuition.”

“Really?” He asks as he stops drinking his cappuccino, “Parents aren’t paying for it?”

She tries her best not to stiffen at his comment but she does anyway. “Uh no. They can’t…really pay for it.”

“Oh.” Bellamy itches his chin slightly, noticing he hit a rough spot. He surveys the room and his eyes lie on Clarke who was attending to another customer’s needs. “Oh!” He said as he looked back at Lexa, “I almost forgot. I heard you go to the same college as us.”

_I wonder who told you._

“Yes.” She puts the cloth away and leans on the counter, “It’s my first year.”

“Ah first year.” He finishes his cappuccino and smiles as he nods his head, “It’s not as hectic as it seems at first – I promise.”

She scoffs, “Say that to someone who’s taking law.”

“My sister’s doing law too, so maybe she’s better person to talk to about it more.”

“Your sister?” She frowns as she grabs his empty cup.

“Yeah.” He looks at her strangely, “Octavia. She was sitting next to me the first time we met.”

“Oh.” A flood of realisation hits her and she tries her best to not feel so utterly embarrassed. She looks away and tries to occupy herself with some other task.

Bellamy looks at her suspiciously, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on.” He challenges her, “What is it?”

She sighs and looks at him again, “I was under the impression that you two were…”

“Were?”

“I thought you two were dating.” Lexa blinks rapidly and tries her best to look anywhere but at him.

Loud guffaws of laughter come out of Bellamy’s mouth and at least half of the people sitting idly in their seats were looking at the two of them now.

“ _Okay_.” She narrows her eyes down to him, “I’m _sorry,_ it was an honest mistake.”

He looked at her and continued to chuckle, “God, I really hope you don’t take family law.”

She rolls her eyes playfully and is suddenly struck at how easily their conversation was flowing. Lexa knows she should probably be focusing more on working but she was suddenly enjoying the dirty looks she was receiving from Clarke for talking to Bellamy.

“Anyway.” He runs one of his hands through his hair and looks back up at her, “How’s the whole room mate situation going? Are you stuck with a total dweeb?”

“Actually, the person who was supposed to be in the room next to me declined the offer. So I’m actually living alone.” She grins at the prospect of this. She probably wouldn’t have survived the whole ordeal of having a room mate anyway.

Bellamy nods in appreciation, “Damn. You’re lucky. I’ve been living with mine for the past two years and I still hate him.”

Lexa laughs, “It’s probably because I’m on the third floor, seeing as barely anyone lives up there.”

“Hold up.” Bellamy cocks one of his eyebrows, “What’s your room number?”

She was slightly taken aback at this; he was a great guy and all – but this was becoming a little too creepy for her liking.

He notices the look of alarm on her face and softens his features. “I’m asking out of curiosity, because there are only 5 rooms on the third floor and I happen to be living in one of them.”

“Oh.” Lexa replies – once again having embarrassed herself. “I’m 33C.”

He snaps his finger, “I’m 32C. The irony is unreal.” He frowns once again, “How haven’t I seen you round and about?”

“I don’t really leave my room, only to go to work and to go to classes.” She feels a heat creeping at the back of her neck and itches it nervously, she must have sounded like a loner. She kind of is one. “I’m guessing you were the one making a real lot of noise in the hallway the other day, right?”

Bellamy smiles sheepishly at her and gives a funny frown, “Woops. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” It kind of wasn’t at the time, it was late at night and she was going over her notes – and two boisterous voices did not exactly help her with her studies. “Today’s tip has made up for that.”

He gives her a grateful look, **“** Well, I think it’s only fitting that I invite you to the party that’s happening this weekend.”

“Party?”

“Yeah.” He nods, “I’m organising a whole ‘Welcome to college’ party for all the first years. It’s going to be great.” He notices the disdain on her face and scoots closer to her, “You should come.”

She tries her best to smile at him once again, “Thank you very much for the invitation, but I’m not really the partying kind.”

“I’ll tell you what.” He fishes in his pockets for something and comes out with a pen and paper, “I’m going to write down the address to the apartment the party’s being held at. If you decide you _do_ want to come just follow the address.” He clarifies, “You can bring friends.”

She takes the small piece of paper and stuffs it in her jeans’ pocket. “Alright. I’ll see you around either way, I guess.”

Bellamy smiles at her for the last time and gets up to leave. “I’ll be looking out for you.”

She waits for him to leave and releases a deep breath.

What the hell had she gotten herself into now?

**

“Do you even understand what you’ve just done?” The blood is not only rushing to Clarke’s head but it is seething and bursting through Clarke’s veins like poison. “You just invited one of the snobbiest and bitchiest people to a party that’s being held at _my_ apartment!”

Bellamy was finding it hard to look Clarke straight in the eyes, so he just lingered on her sofa and lifted his feet up on the table in front of him. He bit one of his fingers and tried to ignore the profanity that was ultimately leaking from Clarke’s mouth.

“…Inconsiderate and just plain rude! How the hell do you manage to fuck up my day in six different ways, Bellamy?” Clarke threw her hands up in the air, “It’s enough that we work at the same place and attend the same college, but you have to go ahead and invite her to _my_ apartment?”

“Come on Clarke!” He removes his feet from the table and sits up a little straighter, “She’s my neighbour _and_ she seems really sweet, why _not_ invite her?”

Clarke rubs her eyes and takes a deep breath in, “She’s the devils spawn is why, she’s a rude ass arrogant bitch who hates me for no reason.”

“Don’t over exaggerate.”

“You don’t even know her!” She continues, “She just served you Cappuccino twice-”

“Very good Cappuccino.” He cuts in.

Clarke falls back into the armchair behind her and crosses her arms, “Whatever.” She spits out. “The point is you have no idea who she is.”

Bellamy resists the uncontrollable urge to roll his eyes and tries to reason with her. “And you do? I bet I’ve spoken to her more **today** than you have in the three separate times you’ve seen her.”

She refuses to say anything else.

“Look, Clarke.” He slows his speech down and tries to speak to her softly, “I know you two started off pretty badly, but I honestly think you have the wrong idea about her.”

She ignores his last comment and fidgets with her fingers, “She’s just a barista who works with me and happens to go to our college and also happens to be your neighbour.”

“Lots of coincidences there.” He chuckles lightly.

She grunts and hides her face under one of the armchair’s pillow, “She’s invading my _life_. First my work, then my college and _now_ my apartment.”

“Stop being so dramatic for fuck’s sake Clarke.” Bellamy usually had enough patience to deal with Clarke, but she was being more than just impossible today. “She probably won’t even show up.”

“Yeah.” She scoffs, “And if she does she’ll be commenting on how unprofessional it is of me to be hosting my friend’s idea of a frat party.”

He sighs and lies back into the sofa, “I just don’t get it. The Lexa you talk about is so different to the Lexa I know.”

“’ _Know’_.” Clarke mutters.

Bellamy over-looks the comment and shrugs, “She’s always nice to me.”

“That’s because she likes you, dumbass.”

He shakes his head, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.”

“How would you know?” Clarke retorts, “You’re oblivious to almost anything that’s in front of you most of the time.”

“I just get the type of vibes that she doesn’t like me.” He replies, “Not in _that_ way.”

She stands up again and walks towards him, “Do you happen to be getting ‘ _pissed off’_ vibes from me then? Because I’m pretty pissed off right now.”

He groans and gets off of the couch, “Well. I gave her your address so it’s too late now.”

“What?!” Clarke practically screams, “Are you trying to get me murdered, Bellamy?” She follows him out of the apartment and gives him the ugliest look she could give.

Bellamy looks at her one last time, “See you Saturday.”

She slams the door in his face, “I hate you.” She shouts.

Clarke hears a defiant laugh and storms into her room.

Fucking stick up her ass Lexa was infiltrating her life.

Literally. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is having trouble concentrating and Clarke is finding constant reminders from the past very draining.
> 
> Also, Lexa and Clarke are cute losers.

Anya’s presence in Lexa’s room was starting to get on her nerves. 

It wasn’t just the fact that Anya had wrinkled her just done bed and had eaten the last of her chocolate biscuits – it was the fact that she hadn’t yet shut up about the impending party she was invited to.

“There’s nothing special about this room.” Anya gets up from Lexa’s bed and surveys the room around her with a bored face. “Why the hell would you want to stick somewhere so closed up and musty?” She shakes her head at her cousin and sighs, “It’s just a party, it can’t hurt to go out and venture a little.” Lexa rolls her eyes and continues to pack her bag for her next class. “I know you’re not a ‘people person’ Lexa, but you can’t latch onto this place like it’s your only hope for survival.”

The amount of times she’s heard the same lecture come out of Anya’s mouth was just embarrassing. “Look Anya, I can handle myself. You’re not my mother and I don’t need you to be one for me, Okay?” She looks at Anya square in the eye, “I hate parties. Always have and always will. There’s no way I’m going.”

“I’m telling you all this for your own good.” Anya frowns at Lexa and leans against the doorframe next to her, “Not because I’m trying to mother you.” She clears her throat, “Didn’t this Bellamy guy say you could get friends? Can’t you bring Lincoln and me?”

Lexa resists the massive temptation to leave her dorm room there and then. She loved Anya – she really did, but today was not the day to bring this up. “Yes he did and that doesn’t relieve the fact that I hate parties and that I am _definitely_ not going.”

“Can’t you just try?” Anya pleads as she walks towards Lexa, “Being cooped up in here is not doing you any good. It’s just a party, we can leave if you absolutely hate it but please Lexa, just _try_.”

Lexa clenches her jaw as she grows more irritated. “No.” She re-affirms as she zips up her bag, “I’ve got to go. I have pre-law classes and a lot of studying ahead of me today.”

Without a look in Anya’s direction, she opens the door and walks away from everything that she knows she needs to face.

There’s no better way for Lexa.

**

Focusing today was harder than usual.

Lexa knew exactly why that was, and she was determined on ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of her mind until she couldn’t anymore.

Halfway during her class however, there was another distraction to add to her list.

Octavia (who she had remembered was Bellamy’s brother and _not_ his girlfriend) stumbled into the classroom and lazily grinned at the teacher. “Sorry, I forgot something at my apartment.”

The teacher who only narrowed her eyes down to Octavia, pursed her lips and motioned for her to sit in front of Lexa. “Try not to ‘forget’ something again, if you could.”

As Octavia turns around with a grimace on her face, her eyes connect with Lexa’s. Lexa tries to avoid Octavia’s recognizing gaze and focuses on what the teacher was saying.

Except Octavia proved to be the least person to be able to avoid.

“Hey, Lexa – is it?”

Lexa nods curtly and starts to write notes. Maybe that way, Octavia would take the hint and leave her alone.

“Funny seeing you here.” She comments as she takes out her A4 pad, “Are you interested in majoring in law too?”

This was it. The questions, the small talk – the little awkward smiles that she’d have to try her best to endure. She didn’t feel like it. She didn’t _ever_ feel like it, even more so today. “Yes.” She replies, “Usually doing that requires me to actually pay attention during the lesson.”

She hates the way the comment comes out so rudely and so rash but there is no way she can control herself today. Something is off, and it’s more off than usual.

Lexa winces as she sees Octavia’s face contort into one of confusion. “Sorry.” Octavia cocks an eyebrow and moves her body away from Lexa, “Didn’t mean to annoy you.”

She realises that it was no way to talk to someone and is quick to reach out to her, “No, I’m sorry.” Her eyes avert from looking at Octavia’s and she settles on looking at her nose, a trick that Anya had taught her ages ago. “I’m just not in the greatest mood today. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Octavia’s face settles down and softens up. “It’s okay. I get it. I snap at people when I’m pissed off all the time.” She chuckles, “Just ask Raven.”

Lexa gives her a small smile and finds it hard to continue the conversation. She doesn’t know what else to say, and there’s a panic inside her that starts to take over the rest of her body. Today was clearly not going to be an easy day for Lexa.

“Bellamy told me that you thought him and I were in a relationship.” The hint of a smirk lies on Octavia’s lips and Lexa starts to calm down. “I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

The statement actually drives a genuine smile to reach Lexa’s lips and this surprises her. “I really am.” She clicks her pen a couple of times before replying again. “Are you going to his party on Friday?” She asks because she’s curious – definitely _not_ because she’s thinking about going.

“I’ll be attending whether I want to or not.”

Lexa gives her a quizzical look.

“It’s being held at my apartment.” She clarifies.

“Oh.” Lexa nods, “Are you okay with him holding such a huge party at your apartment?”

She shrugs, “I’m fine with it. Clarke however, isn’t too happy.”

“Clarke?” Lexa questions as her brow furrows.

“It’s her apartment too.” She gives her a daring look and squints a little, “I live with Raven and Clarke.” A pause. “You work with them.”

“Yes.” However, Lexa is only half listening to Octavia at this point. Everything in her head is reminding Lexa that going to the party would be a bad idea. A horrible one, in fact. Clarke was going to be there. It was _Clarke’s_ apartment. Everything about it screamed trouble.

“Are you coming?” Octavia’s voice breaks through her trail of thought and Lexa looks back up at her abruptly, her thoughts still rapidly racing across her mind.

“I don’t think so.” Lexa nervously clicks the top of her pen again. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Octavia seems to have none of that. “Come on.” She groans, “It’s just a couple of hours.” She itches her chin for a second and smirks, “If you hate Clarke that much – you can watch me get her drunk and make her humiliate herself in twenty different ways.”

“I don’t hate Clarke.” Lexa affirms as she stops herself from smirking along with Octavia and keeping a straight face. She wonders how Octavia had an idea of the strange interaction between her and Clarke. “If anything, I think _she’_ s not too fond of me.”

She shoots Lexa a suspicious glance and tilts her head to the side, “Don’t mind her. She just doesn’t like being told off.” Octavia shrugs, “I think you’re pretty cool.”

Lexa wants to roll her eyes and pretend she’s not flattered by her comment, but she settles with a small appreciative nod. Maybe there were certain things that needed to change about her, and that meant reacting accordingly to people’s efforts.

“Anyway.” She lowers her voice, “You should really come this Friday. It’s just going to be a good old – get drunk off of your face party.” She watches as Lexa’s face remains doubtful and tries again. “If that doesn’t entice you enough, there are going to be a lot of idiots doing very stupid things that they’re all going to regret and you get to judge them all day long.”

“ _Okay_.” Lexa caves in, “I’ll think about it.”

Octavia grins and gives her a thumbs up before turning away from her to actually listen to the teacher’s persistent drone to study their cases.

The idea of this party was becoming increasingly more beguiling to her and she wasn’t sure if Anya was completely wrong about Lexa needing to change.

Even if there was the faint whisper of a ghost telling her not to.

**

Octavia’s legs are on Clarke’s lap (unfortunately for Clarke) and as the two re watch Orange Is the New Black (for the second time that week), Clarke is growing tired of Octavia fidgeting and barely paying attention. _Even_ in the Stella scenes.

“Okay.” Clarke pauses the episode and lifts Octavia’s legs off of her lap. “What are you dying to tell me, O?”

She looks at Clarke cheaply. “Well.” She laughs, “Turns out you’re not the only one who has a class with your hot barista.”

Clarke groans and buries her face in her hands, “Why does she have to come up in all of our conversations? Can’t we just pretend she doesn’t exist?”

“No.” Octavia bites back, “She’s an actual human being – who by the way isn’t as bad as you think she is. You’re judging someone without knowing them.”

“Let’s not have this conversation.” Clarke gets up from the sofa and goes to make herself something in the kitchen. The cupboards are empty and she’s probably got Raven to thank for that. Octavia’s footsteps are heard behind her and Clarke knows that she isn’t going to be left in peace today.

“I’ll stop annoying you if you tell me why you hate her so much.” Octavia follows Clarke around the kitchen and skips each time she does. “If you ignore me, I’ll make sure to stop giving you tips at work.”

Clarke whips her head around to Octavia and swears that being her friend was more effort than it should be sometimes. “I don’t hate her.” She sits down on the chair behind the island and drums her fingers on it. “I just would prefer it if she was away from me and any type of conversation.”

“There’s no valid reason for that.” Clarke gives Octavia a knowing look, “Okay fine – she was kind of bitchy with the whole ‘unprofessional’ thing, but Clarke.” She sighs, “You can’t just let that be a valid reason to write someone off. You’re being an idiot.”

“Great.” Clarke replies bitterly, “Can we talk about something else? Preferably not the constant reminder that I’m a judgemental idiot?”

“God you’re so difficult.” She gets up to grab something from the fridge in defeat and mutters a couple of swear words at Raven for eating all the food.

Clarke’s phone vibrates and as she looks down to see who it is, a hand is grabbing it. “Octavia!” Clarke reaches over the island for her phone back but Octavia is pulling it away from her.

“What the hell Clarke?” A furious Octavia holds her phone in her hand, her grip alarmingly tight and her eyes viciously awake. “Why are you still talking to Finn?”

Clarke closes her eyes and lightly bangs her head on the island. “You’re not going to let me off easy today, are you?”

“Of all the people you should hate, it should be him!” Octavia ignored her last comment and continues to lecture Clarke. “Have you forgotten what an absolute and total dick he was to you?”

“No Octavia, I haven’t.” Clarke snaps back with a ferocity she refused to believe existed. “It still hurts to think about it just as much as it did three months ago.”

She slams Clarke’s phone down on the island and lifts her hands to further prove her point. “Then why in the world are you still speaking to him?” Her eyes are searching for an answer desperately and Clarke knows that she can’t change the topic this time.

“I couldn’t be angry at him forever.” She explains slowly, trying to calm herself down in the process. The fire burning through her at that moment was something she had not missed. “What am I going to do? Hate the world and hate him for simply not loving me anymore? It’s immature.”

Octavia shakes her head. “No one said anything about having to hate him, but talking to him? You think talking to the jerk who left you high and dry is going to make you more mature?” There’s a look in Octavia’s eyes that tells Clarke that this is coming purely out of concern. She tries to ignore that. “He hurt you Clarke.” She blinks rapidly, “Actually no. Hurt you is an understatement. He tore your fucking heart out of your chest and used it to buy someone else back. He’s the _last_ person you need in your life.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like I could have done anything to prevent it now could I?” She feels all the memories she tried to force back for months on end flow back to her and hates the way it makes her heart clench. “He was my friend before all of that, I used to be able to talk to him about everything.”

“You can talk to _us_ about everything.” Octavia’s eyes are rapidly wavering over Clarke’s and her voice is so strained through desperation that it makes Clarke feel horrible. Even more horrible than she already feels. “I just want you to move on.”

She grabs Octavia’s hand and squeezes it, “I _have_ moved on.” She closes her eyes briefly before finding her composure. “People fall out of love, the feelings that should be there just aren’t anymore. It happens. _I_ didn’t fall out of love with him and maybe there’s a part of me that never will, but through all of that he became my best friend and I don’t want to lose that. I really don’t.”

“I know.” Octavia replies, “I _know_.” She nods. “I just can’t stand him. Not after how he left you, Clarke. I was here to see that. Raven was too.”

She knows too. She _knows_.

“I felt it coming for a month or two. It was like an impending death sentence that I couldn’t accept. And when he told me, it felt like a new type of pain. It felt unreal.” Her eyes prickled at the memory, “I was trying to save something that was dead. Of course I was hurt. Who the fuck wouldn’t be?”

Octavia accepts this and nods. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to like him. I still don’t agree with you talking to him. In fact, it’s pretty dumb.”

“You don’t have to.” She sighs, “I’m just tired of the drama. I’m tired of crying over him and feeling like something’s always missing. He’s got to be in my life somehow, and this way I really get to move on. Just accept that all he is, is a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I deserve that, don’t I?”

Octavia knows she does.

**

Studying Murphy’s Law was not an easy task, but Lexa was determined to defeat it.

Just not today.

Today, her brain seemed to discern itself from any type of concentration. Her hands fidgeted over her pen and her eyes trailed over the blank piece of paper in front of her. The frustration of being unable to get her head around something she really needed to get done was unnerving. She needed to concentrate.

But in less than one minute her pen is dropped on the empty paper in front of her and her face is being buried in her hands because she feels utterly useless.

_Stop thinking Lexa. Start doing. You’re not going to get anywhere if you let yourself get distracted. **Focus**._

As much as Lexa wants to ignore the dragging feeling in her chest, she knows that today would be a day of loss and longing. She would have to feel the reminder of pain and hurt and live through it. Today was simply, a bad day.

Except it came in loud beats and long moments of sharp stings to the chest when her mind was unable to drift away from the fact that _she was gone_. Her success in ignoring the fact had become such a regular happening that the days in which she just couldn’t do that became a burden. Almost as if _she_ became a burden.

There was no point in denying her absence anymore.

Today was one of those days were Lexa felt it more than ever.

One shaky breath and two beats later, Lexa reached for her phone and searched for the forbidden folder. She scrolls up through the flurry of photos and finds her favourite one. The one that makes the tears re appear and the shake in her hands worsen. That goddamn photo that did nothing but make her feel like the whole world was crashing down on her.

Maybe she should call Anya. Or Lincoln. Maybe she should stop staring at the picture of them both and realise that things weren’t the same anymore, and that they never would be. That they just can’t be. Maybe for once she should tell someone about how horribly she was dealing with everything, admit that really – she was a fucking wreck.

But the courage to push the call button never came and she could only just stare at the picture longingly. Longing for someone who was gone and who never would come back.

_Costia._

Her name was a poison in her mind and the start of a torment in her body. It haunted her and left her scarred.

She was tired of being broken. Tired of waiting to be healed. A part of Lexa thinks that she has seen too much death in her life for her to ever be ‘healed’ again. Maybe there was nothing left to be healed from. Maybe this was just how things were to be from now onwards.

Maybe Lexa was just destined to lose the people she loved the most in life.

She looked back at the picture again and swore to herself that she wouldn’t cry. Not this time.

Lexa knew that she could remember that day like it was yesterday. She knew she could remember the look on her face when she surprised her with a road trip to the first place that it just became so obvious to them. Nothing could replace the smile on both of their faces that day; not one damn thing.

Taking her out to a small café’ in the middle of nowhere for their three year anniversary was nothing special. In fact, it might have been close to being the worst idea ever – but not for them. No, to them that café’ might have been the meaning of everything. The _reason_ for everything.

She knows nothing can replace this.

She hopes nothing will.

**

_“God Lex!” Costia stumbled into the small looking coffee shop with flailing arms. “Stop pushing me!”_

_Lexa just giggles as she walks into the coffee shop herself, but her laughter soon diminishes as she realises the deserted place they had just walked into._

_There were no paintings on the walls. No indication that the place was really a coffee shop – only the sign outside with a wind-beaten picture of a coffee cup and a scratched out sign saying ‘Carrie’s Coffee’. The tables were far and few between and each had some kind of large chunk ripped out of them. The chairs were wobbly and hardly looked like they were stable enough to be sat on._

_Honestly, the place looked like something out of a horror movie._

_“Lex.” Costia moves closer to Lexa and hugs her loose arm tightly. “I’m scared.”_

_Lexa turns around to face her uncle and frowns at him. “What is this place?”_

_He grunts as he takes off his gloves and takes a seat at the chair closest to him. “Our only escape from the blizzard outside, unfortunately.”_

_After Anya and Lincoln, Costia’s parents are the last to walk in and the last to realise that their friendly trip has just turned into a sham._

_Costia and Lexa take a seat on the farthest table and stare at Anya and Lincoln who were ordering and playing a game of Uno. Anya, who was kicking Lincoln’s ass was smiling defiantly as she performed a dance of victory in front of him. The waitress, didn’t look too amused._

_“Can I help you with something?” A sickly sweet voice grabs her attention and Lexa turns around to see another waitress with a note pad in her hand._

_“Oh uh.” Lexa clears her throat, “Yeah.” She looks across at Costia who was now staring back at her. “What do you think we should get?”_

_Costia shrugs, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”_

_“Okay.” Lexa turns back to the waitress and smiles at her (awkwardly, of course) “Two hot chocolates, please.”_

_The waitress takes down their order and leaves the two alone._

_“Well this was a bust.” Costia huffs as she lies her head in her two hands. “We were supposed to have a nice weekend at the cottage and we’re at some deadbeat café’ that doesn’t even have a menu.” She sighs, “This sucks.”_

_“Lighten up.” Lexa shoots Costia a mocking look across the table, “At least we know that school’s cancelled for the next week.”_

_Costia re considers this and eventually smiles a toothy grin. “Yeah.” She scrunches her nose like she always does and her eyes are locked on Lexa’s._

_They do this sometimes. Just stare at each other. Sometimes it feels a little strange because Lexa really doesn’t like looking at Costia for too long. It makes her feel weird. It’s not really a feeling she can explain, but she kind of gets a tummy ache and feels like she’s about to be sick._

_It’s the strangest thing ever._

_Only, Anya had told her a few days ago that she got the same feeling when she saw Justin Timberlake._

_Lexa doesn’t have that feeling when she sees Justin Timberlake._

_She wants to try look away from Costia but today she just can’t. It’s like she’s captivated in pools of brown that she doesn’t ever want to be freed from. Lexa thinks she’s starting to like the weird feeling in her stomach that she gets when she looks at Costia._

_“Hey Costia?” Lexa asks as she breaks free from her gaze._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you get a tummy ache when you see Justin Timberlake?”_

_Costia frowns and stares at her as if she’s mad, “What?”_

_“I don’t know.” She resorts to staring at the bland floor beneath her and avoids the way that she knows Costia is looking at her. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”_

_“Why would there be something wrong with you?” Her voice is soft and it gives Lexa the courage to look back up at her._

_And she feels it again. Stronger than ever this time._

_“I think.” Lexa doesn’t know if she can say it. She doesn’t know if she can breathe the words and let them settle on her tongue. She doesn’t know if she wants them to reach Costia’s ears. She doesn’t know anything. “I think I like you.”_

_There is a silence that falls upon the both of them and Lexa feels as if she might cry._

_“I know it’s weird I’m sorry.” She sniffles and tries to fight back the tears. Lexa knows she cannot cry. She still will anyway. “Are you going to stop speaking to me?” She stares intensely at Costia who reaches out for her hand across the table, “Because if you do I don’t know who I’m going to play Monopoly with during break and I don’t know if I want to talk to Quint anymore because he’s kind of mean.”_

_Her ramble goes on for a couple of seconds until Costia moves onto the seat next to her and hugs her. “I don’t want to stop talking to you.” She looks around the room and gives Lexa a quick kiss on the cheek that sends ripples through her spine._

_“I think I like you too.”_

**

Lexa knows that by now the tears are inescapable.

She knows that being 9 years old was sweet and innocent and beautiful, and she knows that nothing could be like that anymore. She had grown up, and now she was growing up without Costia.

Things were different now.

Because just as Costia was gone, their dear old coffee shop had gone along with her.

**

“Lexa.” Lincoln’s gruff voice ripples through her room as he and Anya burst through her dorm room, “You’re going to that party tonight.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not you too.” Her other cousin had seemingly also turned to the dark side. “Can’t you just accept that I don’t want to go to one damn party and leave me be? I’m quite sure that I won’t be an eventful addition to this party.”

“Too bad.” Anya replies as she closes the door behind her, “You’ve had the last three days to settle in and study, there’s no way you can use any other excuse as to not go to the party. Seriously, what the hell is holding you back? If you hate it so much we can just leave.”

Lexa grunts and throws a scrunched up paper at Anya’s head. “I just don’t feel comfortable going, okay? There are going to be some people there that I’m not well acquainted with. Can we just leave it at that?” She pauses, “Please?”

“Nope.” Lincoln hoists Lexa up from her shoulder, “We’re officially forcing you to go.”

She feels the frustration grow throughout her and has to thoroughly resist the urge to keep her fist out of Lincoln’s jaw. “You can’t force me to do anything.”

“Look.” Anya sighs as she walks in front of Lexa and puts her hand on her shoulder, “You’re our little cousin. Hell, you’re pretty much our little sister and we’re watching you rot away in some room studying your ass off and not talking to anyone.” Lincoln nods in agreement, but doesn’t let go of Lexa. “It needs to stop.”

She wriggles herself free from Lincoln’s grasp and walks past Anya. “How about you stay out of my life and trust that I know how to take care of myself?”

“Oh?” Anya laughs dryly, “Are you taking care of yourself Lexa? Are you even getting a good night’s rest?” She peers at Lexa and keeps her position steady. “Those dark circles under your eyes are telling me otherwise, you know.”

Lexa looks away from Anya and clenches her fists. “Just leave me alone.”

“No.” Anya replies firmly, and it was a firm type of voice that Lexa hadn’t heard in a while. “You’ve been acting like this for over half a year and I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you. I’m not going to let you do this to yourself anymore. It’s one party, and you’re going.”

Lincoln puts a hand on Lexa’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly, “We’re just worried about you Lex.”

She can’t find it in herself to be nice to them. All that is left inside her body is bitter and pure anger, and right now she is content with directing it at the wrong people. “Great.” She spits out, “Go be worried about me somewhere else.”

“Be ready in three hours.” Anya’s voice fades out, “Or you’re going to the party looking like some hobo borrowed your clothes for a week.”

A couple of footsteps later, Lexa is left alone in her room.

And she’s still empty.

**

Now that Clarke had finally placed all her clothes in her wardrobe, she could settle down into her room a little more – and get ready for the party that would be held in her apartment three hours from now.

A black dress was what Clarke was going with. No heels. No excessive make up. No socialising. Hopefully.

Raven and Octavia spent the rest of the week talking about the blessed party and Clarke couldn’t give a toss. She knew how Bellamy’s infamous parties started and she knew how they ended. Raven and Octavia would be drunk off of their minds, Monty and Jasper would be a mixture of both high and drunk and Bellamy would be off in someone’s bed – most probably naked.

Then there would be Clarke, who would have out drunk all her friends and yet still wouldn’t be even the _slightest_ intoxicated.

Maybe it was just the fact that Clarke wasn’t in the mood for anyone today, or just the looming reminder that she was going to have to deal with Raven and Octavia’s drunken charades.

“Griffin!” Raven’s voice comes booming into her room, “Ready for pre drinks?”

“What?” Clarke gawks at Raven who was holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. “Three hours before the actual party? How fucked are you planning on getting tonight?”

“Very.” She grins and jerks her head towards the kitchen, “Come on, Monty, Jasper and Miller are here early. Also, Miller is like a breath of fresh air. Like, whoa. He’s _hot_.”

Clarke follows her friend out of her room and smirks, “I know Raven, we’ve been over this. Nathan is really hot, and also really gay.”

“Don’t rub it in, bitch.” She throws Clarke a wink and slams the bottle of Vodka on the table, “Tonight is going to be great.”

Clarke hums in agreement, even if she’s heard the same statement from both Raven and Octavia multiple times this week. “I’m sure it will be.” She flickers through her cupboards and removes anything valuable from them. “How many people are coming today?”

Raven shrugs as she opens the door for Monty, Miller and Jasper to enter. “Probably enough to make you swear for 15 minutes straight tomorrow whilst you clean up the mess.”

She rolls her eyes and greets her friends, wishing that she wouldn’t have agreed to have the stupid party at her apartment. What the hell was she thinking?

_Yes Clarke, go ahead and allow your friend to throw a party at your new apartment just a week after having moved in. Also let him invite some snobby little bitch witch to said party and enjoy the profanity that will flush your mind throughout the night. Good on you._

“Damn Clarke.” Jasper says as he sits on the island, “This place is sick.”

“Jasper.” Clarke scolds as she swats his butt of the island, “Get the hell off my counter.”

He jumps off the counter and goes on the search for shot glasses, “Bellamy’s going to be here in half an hour, Maya and Octavia are going to be back in a couple of minutes with more booze and _you_ are going to lighten the hell up, Clarke.”

“Choose your words wisely, or your ass will be out of here as soon as it got in.” She doesn’t bother helping him to find shot glasses and greets Miller instead. “Sorry about Jasper, he gets on my nerves 24/7.”

Miller laughs a little and shakes Clarke’s hand, “It’s nice to finally get to meet you.” He clears his throat, “Well properly.”

“Yeah.” She grins, “How are you and Monty doing?”

“Pretty good.” He watches as Monty and Jasper struggle to find shot glasses and his lips quirk into a small smile, “It’s always a good upgrade from serving the guy you like at the place you work to going out with him and meeting his friends –for the second time-, right?”

“Well yeah.” She smiles at him again and pats his shoulder. “At least you’re a cute waiter.”

“Why thank you.” He winks at her and grins again. “How’re you and Finn doing?”

Clarke freezes in that moment and forgets to breathe. If she wasn’t looking forward to the party before, she definitely wasn’t looking forwards to it now. “Not too good.” She lets out a bitter laugh, “We broke up.” The words come out harsher than she means them to be.

“Oh.” Is all Miller can say before releasing a couple of meaningless apologies. There was no point now, his name was out there and she was reminded of him once again. There would always be a part of him ready to haunt her in some way.

“It’s fine.” She forces another smile and signals towards Jasper and Monty, “I’m going to help those two twerps find the shot glasses. I’ll speak to you later.”

Except it isn’t fine, and she doesn’t know if she wants to speak to _anyone_ later.

**

13 shots of vodka coke, 3 shots of tequila and 5 cups of cheap beer is all it takes to get the most of them tipsy. Some even drunk.

Clarke however, is far more sober than anyone else in the room and today she wants to be anything _but_ that. She searches for more booze and as people start flooding in, the anticipation grows.

She is no longer paying attention to Octavia and Raven’s game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ and is only left staring at yet again another empty cup of beer. There was only a light buzz in her head and it did nothing to relieve her of the horrible irritation that was currently riddling throughout her whole body.

Clarke hates how just by the mention of Finn’s name, her day could be ruined. She hated how he still had so much effect on her and she loathed the way Finn made her want to hole up in her room and just cry. She wanted to be strong and independent not give a crap about the way he left her but some days made his absence in her life more obvious than ever.

The music is pumping through Clarke’s veins but she has no will to move from her place. She wants to distance herself away from everyone in the room, and just allow herself to feel terrible for one more day. She knows that it is completely unacceptable.

She also knows that she doesn’t care.

People are dancing and singing and she is left dead and apathetic.

She is sick of feeling like this.

“You okay?” Raven slings her arm around Clarke’s shoulder and a quick whiff of whiskey is all Clarke needs to deduct that Raven is most probably already piss drunk. “You look like you want to murder every single person in this room.”

“That’s because I actually do.” She replies coolly, “How are you so drunk already?”

“Blame Octavia.” She burps. “Keeps on giving me more and more alcohol with every glass.”

“Okay.”

“Come on Clarke.” She tries to swing Clarke’s arms to the beat but is left with loose arms and an un-amused expression. “Just try have some fun!”

Clarke can do nothing more but nod herself to the music and dig herself deeper and deeper into the bad mood she was already head first involved in. At the moment, she couldn’t care less whose party it was. She just wanted to be left alone.

Soon enough however, her day was just about to get a whole lot worse.

A girl in a shirt and leather jacket walks in with two other people. Her hair is a jungle of braids and her eyes are fiercely looking around the room. It is then when their eyes lock together that Clarke realises who had just entered her apartment.

**

There is a swift blow of dry air as the door opens and suddenly an overwhelming reek of sweat, alcohol and smoke. Regret is still flowing throughout her and she knows that it will continue to do so for the rest of the night.

She is doing her best to ignore the presence of Anya and Lincoln by her side and looks across the room rapidly, only to find the one and only blonde looking right back at her. It leaves her struck for a second before she regains her composure and clears her throat.

_You can just ignore her, it’s no big deal._

“Hey! Lexa!” She hears her name being called out and as soon as her eyes drift away from Clarke’s, she notices Bellamy sliding his way through people to greet her. “You came!”

Lexa nods hastily and does her best not to attract more attention, she looks over to Anya and Lincoln who were staring at her expectantly. “This is Anya and Lincoln.” She looks to the two of them and looks back at Bellamy sheepishly, “I decided to invite them, if that’s okay with you.”

He shrugs and has a non-committal grin stuck to his face. He nods to both Anya and Lincoln and gives them all red solo cups. “There’s a table full of alcohol on the far end of the room, you’re going to have to get through some assholes but I’m pretty sure you’ll manage.”

“Thanks.” She smiles oddly at Bellamy, who she knew from the faint yet noticeable reek of vodka was probably quite drunk.

“You didn’t tell me this Bellamy guy was cute.” She hears Anya mutter into her ear and her insides lurch at the thought of Anya already flirting with the closest human being. She sidles away from Lexa and shakes hands with Bellamy, “Thanks for the invite.”

His eyes are in captured in Anya’s and Lexa knows that her presence in the room is immediately un-needed. Just like it always was most of the time. “No problem.” Hair is stuck to his face and Lexa can visibly see the sweat droplets form on his forehead. She definitely did not see ‘cute’ as the right way to describe Bellamy there and then. “I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

Lexa doesn’t need to hear much more before rolling her eyes and looking away from them both. “Can we leave now?” She asks Lincoln who seemed to be in a world of his own.

He shakes his head and smirks at her, “You haven’t even been here for more than 5 minutes. Just try enjoy yourself Lexa.”

“Yeah.” She frowns and clenches her jaw in frustration, “So easy for you to say that.”

He turns towards her and eyes her carefully. “You know that I know what this feels like Lexa.” She avoids the way his stare makes her feel worse. “We lost her too.”

The words are subtle and true. The reality of his comment is stronger than she ever expected to be, she wishes for a second that she wasn’t so completely and utterly alone.

But she knows that she cannot do this here. Having such a conversation amidst so many people and having to feel the gravity of all the truth was too quick and too raw. Lexa was not ready for that. She knows that a part of her is selfish for ever thinking that it was her loss only, but sometimes it felt like it was hers to keep.

Hers to grieve.

“I’m going to grab a drink.” She pushes past Lincoln and feels nothing but anger circulate her body.

_Here you are, running away again._

**

“Is that Lexa over there?” Raven peers over Clarke’s shoulder and almost trips. “Damn. She looks hot in a leather jacket.”

Clarke turns her head towards Raven and lets her nostrils flare, “Could you not be so loud?”

“Nope.” She slurs as she tries to find her balance once again. She looks at Lexa more carefully and squints in her direction, “Who’s that next to her?”

“Don’t know.” She replies indifferently.

“No really.” She uses her hands to make Clarke look directly at Lexa once again. “There’s a girl and a guy.”

Clarke shakes her head free of Raven’s hands and grunts, “Great. You’ve determined the obvious. Let’s give you a medal, shall we?”

Raven rolls her eyes slowly and waves Clarke away, “You’re in one bad mood Griffin.”

She ignores her comment and lets her eyes venture to the alcohol sitting idly on the table across her. “Is Lexa just naturally surrounded by gorgeous people? What the hell?”

Clarke looks back at Raven who was seemingly adorned with the two people standing next to Lexa. One was a woman who had cheekbones surprisingly higher than Jessica Biel. Her hair, like Lexa was braided and from what she could tell she was currently being chatted up by Bellamy.

The other was a rugged guy who looked like he could break someone’s bone with a little ounce of energy from his side, whilst also being painfully attractive at the same time. As drunk as Raven was, she had a point.

“I guess it’s too late for me to chat that girl up, right?” Raven looks at Clarke expectantly and the way her eyes gloss over tells Clarke that she’s going to be in for a massive hangover tomorrow.

Clarke managed to shoot Raven a smug smile. “Looks like Bellamy beat you to it.”

She grunts and drinks the rest of her beer, “I’m going to go find Octavia. She better not be making out with someone on my bed or shit will go down.”

As soon as Raven leaves, Clarke is heading towards the alcohol.

_Because hey, you might just need that hangover tomorrow._

**

Alcohol was stupid.

Alcohol was part of the reason that Costia was gone.

But today, Lexa was determined on not caring about that. Lately, being stupid seemed to do more good to Lexa than anything else in her life.

Passing through a mass amount of sweaty people was not an easy task, especially when some guy would attempt to dry hump her to which she would retaliate with a quick elbow to the gut.

She walks towards the table and finds only a couple of people surrounding it. Her eyes waver around the table and spots a blonde pouring herself a whole cup of whiskey. Just as she was about to internally judge this slightly insane person, familiar blue eyes are staring back at hers and Lexa feels her insides quirk in the most intense of ways.

She decides that ignoring Clarke’s soft yet burning stare would be best. There is a heat that creeps upon her neck and she convinces herself that it is the loud beat of the music and the swarm of hot bodies that does this to her, and definitely not Clarke who looked admiringly beautiful in a black dress.

Lexa fixes herself a small cup of cheap beer and gets ready to walk away from Clarke’s personal space. She did not need another reason to awkwardly socialise with the co-worker who seemed to harbour an intense hate for her.

“Having fun?”

The brisk, hoarse voice catches her off guard. She looks towards Clarke who was quietly nursing her whiskey whilst simultaneously watching Lexa carefully. Her face was a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Naturally, Lexa would ignore her and walk away but it was Clarke’s apartment. She deserves at least some respect. “Not my scene, really.” It’s all she can settle to say, and the way her heart beats at the bottom of her throat makes the anticipation of Clarke’s reply far worse.

“Too inappropriate?” Her words are a slice through the air and Lexa can almost feel the venom that they are laced with. “Or is it just not the type of event that professional people attend?”

Her increased heart rate stops to a deadly slow rate and she can feel the cumulative frustration burst throughout her at full blast. She frowns at Clarke and exhales heavily. “Have I done something to upset you?” The words were polite, but the intentions behind them were not. “You always seem to look at me quite horribly, I don’t quite get the feeling that you appreciate my presence.” The sarcasm reeked out of Lexa and she basked in the satisfaction of it all.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She takes a gulp of her whiskey and doesn’t wince as she swallows it. It strikes a hitch in Lexa’s breath and she can no longer feel the bite of her own words leaving an affect. “I didn’t want to borderline on being arrogant by asking, of course.”

Lexa finds herself letting out a dry laugh and her grip on her cup grows tighter by the second. “Are you calling me arrogant?”

“I don’t know.” She retorts, “Am I calling someone who so easily chose to use ‘unprofessional’ as a meaningful adjective for my work life, arrogant? You tell me.” It is a challenge at most, and Lexa is ready to take it. She would definitely not back down. There was too much frustration and irritation stored inside of her for it not to fuel her fight.

“Actually.” Lexa begins as she downs the rest of her beer, “I believe I was wrong in calling you unprofessional that day.”

Clarke’s eyebrows both raise at this comment.

“What I really should have said.” She walks closer to Clarke and amazes herself by looking straight into Clarke’s eyes. “Is that you are intrusive and a downright nuisance.”

Lexa watches as Clarke’s nostril flare in retaliation and takes pride in seeing her words take such affect. She didn’t think she could enjoy making someone feel so defeated. “Really?”

Clarke takes a step closer to Lexa and frowns at her. “I’d think that being intrusive would require actually intruding in one’s life. I don’t believe I have ever done such a thing.” Her comment is curt and she notices Clarke’s change in vocabulary as a fierce one.

She revels in seeing Clarke’s ears turn red and eyes ready to burr holes into her skull. It is a strange feeling, and one that Lexa notes to enjoy more often. Yet somehow this was different. She wasn’t even genuinely angry at Clarke, she just was enjoying her watch get so overly pissed off. “I’m quite sure that trying to speak to me every time you see me is intrusive. Also, let’s not forget the amount of times I have caught you staring at me from a distance. It’s quite alarming, actually.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in alarm and she doesn’t miss the two spots of red that lie on her cheeks. “Well I’m so darn sorry for trying to be nice! I’ll keep in mind that some people like to be left the hell alone and ignored for the rest of eternity.”

“I’m not a people person.” Lexa simply replies, “Have you got a problem with that?”

“No.” She snaps back, “I am most definitely a people person, have _you_ got a problem with that?”

She shrugs and turns her head away from Clarke. “No. I do not.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

The adrenaline rush that Lexa had running through her had now died out, and all that she was left with was the regret and an apology seething throughout her. There’s nothing that can stop the way Lexa turns her head back to Clarke to use sheer will and force to actually attempt to communicate once again. “Wait.” She closes her eyes for a short while and exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” And she means it this time. “I never meant to come off so rude and irritated.” She pauses and searches for the right type of explanation. “I just kind of am nowadays.”

Clarke’s hardened exterior visibly softens in front of her and it strangely makes Lexa’s chest burst into a flurry of emotions. “It’s okay.” She looks at Lexa sheepishly, “I’m sorry for being so quick to judge and whatever. I just hate being told off.” She sighs, “I’m sorry if that makes me sound like a spoilt brat too.”

Lexa finds herself smiling in amusement and she doesn’t care to stop it. “You don’t sound spoilt. Just very determined.” She looks at Clarke calmly, “I appreciate that in a person.”

“Yeah?” She asks honestly. “You don’t think its un professional?”

Lexa rolls her eyes, “Really?”

“Sorry.” Clarke smirks and finishes the rest of her whiskey. “I couldn’t help it.”

She takes relief in the way that Clarke makes her chest feel lighter than it has in months. It also scares her a little, for reasons she doesn’t want yet to acknowledge. “I guess I kind of deserved it. That was slightly stuck up of me.”

“Slightly?”

“Don’t push it.” She can’t keep a straight face for long though, Clarke’s smile has now become infectious.

A silence falls between them once again but this time it is comfortable, and doesn’t hold the tension of unanswered questions. It is one that allows the heaving of Lexa’s chest to calm down and the rate of her heart to reach it’s peaceful pace once again.

“You know Lexa.” Clarke’s husky voice breaks in once again, “You’re not that bad after all.”

“You too, Clarke.” She likes the way her name easily rolls off her tongue.

“Should I ask you how you know my name?” She turns to Lexa once again and the smirk seems to never leave her lips.

Lexa turns towards Clarke, “Should I ask how you know mine?”

“Probably not.” Clarke’s smirk is wider than ever now. “That would be unprofessional.”

Lexa’s laugh leaves her quicker than it usually does and she feels like she is giving away a part of her that should be secret. A part that need never to be shown again, but somehow that feeling does not seem to want to stick.

_Not today._

And she swears it’s the cheap beer, she really does.

But Lexa’s got a weird feeling in her stomach again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa drunk? What are the odds?

Clarke is trying her best to avert her eyes from Lexa but she is failing.

Quite terribly.

“You’re staring, again.” Lexa comments as she takes another gulp of her beer. “Clarke.”

She looks away from Lexa and grabs the bottle of whiskey in front of her. “I’m going to my room.” Her head jerks to the room a little far off from them and shrugs. “If you want free booze and the luxury of my company you can follow me.”

Clarke walks off and she knows that the foolish hope for Lexa to indeed follow her would be abstained. She knew that she would have to spend this horrible sham of a bad mood alone, caught up with a bottle of whiskey and thoughts more muddled than her anatomy notes. She knows this because she’s hopeful – not an idiot.

Except, an opening and closing of her door behind her proves her wrong.

Very wrong.

Lexa (whose cup was now empty) took a seat next to Clarke on the floor and said nothing as she grabbed the whiskey, poured a large amount of it in her cup and took a gulp almost immediately.

“Someone’s eager.” Clarke’s eyebrows rise up a little bit but she grabs the whiskey and pours it in her cup too. Today was the day to say ‘fuck it’ to everything. “I knew I was too good to resist.” It is a joke, and a pathetic one at that.

Lexa scoffed into her drink, “Don’t fool yourself into thinking I came here for you, Clarke.” Another gulp of whiskey warms her throat. “I don’t even know why I came here today.” Her breaths are uneven, and it makes Clarke slightly nervous herself. “I don’t know why I’m talking to _you_.” She looks at Clarke as she says this and holds her gaze.

Clarke blinks rapidly and looks at the door opposite them. “Your choice.” She shrugged, “Not mine.”

“I don’t mean it in the way you think I do.” Clarke can sense that she’s still looking at her and the sheer will to look away is beginning to crumble. “You’re a paradox. You’re not anything like me, and that should bother me.” It is then that Clarke realises that Lexa is in no way sober. “But it doesn’t.”

“So because we’re different people, that means we can’t be friends?” Clarke gives in to the urge to look at Lexa and watches her carefully. “That’s bullshit.”

Lexa sighs and shakes her head, “You misunderstand me Clarke.”

“How do you expect me to understand anything you say right now? Everything currently coming out of your mouth is pretty insulting.” She can feel the earlier tension rise up inside of her and begins to question if her judge of character is all that it was.

“I _mean_.” Another gulp of whiskey and Lexa’s eyes are as dazed as they were seconds ago. “That you are the type of person I avoid. You are daring, strong hearted and more curious than you should be. Your drive is passion and my drive is reason. People like us – we’re just not meant to get along.” There is a ghost of a smile on her lips and it draws Clarke into her even more. “It is not that way with us.”

Her eyes are no longer on Clarke’s, they are away and as distant as they had ever been moments ago. Her hands are fidgeting and Clarke is even more confused by this. “That’s a lot of information about someone you barely know, Lexa.” She doesn’t know if Lexa’s comments unnerve her or alleviate her. “I still think your ‘reasoning’ is bullshit, by the way.”

Lexa shakes her head once again and lets her head fall back onto the pale wall beside her. It hits the wall harder than it should have and a loud thud escapes.

Her face contorts into one of pain and Clarke cannot help a hearty laugh escape her.

“Ouch.”

And for the first time, Lexa laughed too.

She laughed as if she had let go for just five seconds, allowed herself the treasure of the small pleasures in life and endowed herself in them. She laughed like her strained exterior could break for a little while. She laughed just because she could.

It went on for a couple of seconds until Clarke scrunched her nose up.

For some odd reason, Lexa could not let go anymore.

The same, disdain ridden facial expression took over – except it proved to be even more intense this time. The laughter was gone and everything felt heavy. Her silence strikes a twinge of anxiety in Clarke and her fingers clench in panic.

“Did I do something wrong?” She knows it’s better than asking her if she’s okay, because anyone with goddamn eyes could see that she was in no way, ‘okay’.

Lexa does nothing to confirm or deny this. Her head just hangs lowly and her fingers grasp the cup beside her with white knuckles and torn plastic. “No.” She shakes her head vigorously in confirmation, “I had a-” The words are grasping onto life, clinging onto some form of meaning but they just die. They remain dead. “My-” But this time the words die quicker than ever and she gives up with a tense jaw. “Change the subject.”

It is an order more than anything and Clarke obeys it, somehow understanding.

“Okay.” She nods and finishes her cup of whiskey with barely a grunt. “Since you and Bellamy are on a friendly level, we can talk about my first encounter with him.” She clears her throat, “If you’d be interested in hearing that, of course.”

Lexa’s eyes remain fixed onto the ground and Clarke can barely register a nod.

“Well.” Clarke is good at this. Talking, chattering on for ages about things that might not matter to anyone else but her. If it is a change of subject that Lexa wants – a change of subject is what she gets. “It was the first time I had gone to Octavia’s house, and since Raven was sick with the flu it had just been us.” She clarifies, “We were only six years old at the time.”

She knows that Lexa is barely listening to her, but she also knows that it might slowly pull her away from whatever the hell she is being reminded of. “Anyway, I went over and we decided that we would play football because her mother had hid the Harry Potter movies.” She laughs for a second and gets back to the story, “Eventually, her brother came back from school and he wanted to play too. He and Octavia were quarrelling over who got to play and they were fighting over the ball.”

Lexa’s face seemed to relax into a lesser state of stress and it seemed that she was listening to Clarke more now. “Somehow, Bellamy decided that kicking the ball in my direction would prove a point.” She coughed, “The ball hit me straight in the face and knocked one of my front teeth out.”

This earned a look of alarm from Lexa and Clarke laughed once again in response. “Octavia kicked Bellamy in the shin and tried to help me stop the rush of blood that was splattering all over the place.” She grins at the memory and lets the bittersweet sense of nostalgia take over her. “Needless to say he had gotten into a lot of trouble. But even after that, the name ‘Toothy’ stuck with me for a couple of years.” She rolls her eyes, “Thanks to Bellamy, obviously.”

“What did you do after that?”

“I had to wait two years for my adult tooth to grow back.” Clarke grunted, “Why do you think he called me toothy?”

“I’d love to see a picture of that.” Lexa surveys Clarke carefully, “Just so I could put a face to the young nuisance you probably were.”

Clarke cocks her eyebrow at Lexa and scoffs. “I was a delightful child.”

“I’m sure you were.”

There is a silence that falls upon them and for the first time it is a comfortable one.

“I propose that I get you drunker than you obviously already are.” Clarke puts the whiskey to her other side and tilts her head towards Lexa, waiting for an answer.

“How are you going to do that?” Her response is quick; in her favour.

Clarke shrugs nonchalantly, “Well, since we’re not calling each other names and acting like imbeciles I say we get the moonshine stashed under my bed and see who can drink out who.”

“You’re on.”

And Clarke doesn’t dare to miss the ghost of a smirk that shadows Lexa’s lips.

**

Quite obviously, Clarke has won.

Lexa is a blubbering mess and her thoughts are incoherent and hardly anything close to what one would call ‘sober’. Sober was something Lexa definitely _wasn’t_ right now.

“Want some more?” Clarke shakes the bottle of moonshine (or what was left of it) in front of Lexa and gives her a somewhat daring look.

Lexa finally gives up and realises that if any more of that pungent smelling substance finds a way down her throat, she wouldn’t be able to keep it down there for much longer. “No.” She almost chokes out as she hesitantly admits defeat. “I’m quite sure your ‘moonshine’ is illegal.”

“Oh.” Clarke takes another gulp of the clear looking liquid, winces and closes it. “It actually is.”

Lexa shakes her head, more to herself rather than Clarke. “I should scold myself greatly for doing this.” As much as she tries to utter the words clearly, they are bestowed with slurs and she isn’t very sure if Clarke can really understand her. “I have work tomorrow.”

Clarke wriggles her eyebrows, “So do I.” It is then when Lexa realises that Clarke is also very drunk. “Guess you’re going with a massive hangover.”

“I don’t-” Lexa takes the time to swallow what seemed to be a little bit of the alcohol she had just ingested. “Get hangovers.”

The only thing Clarke does is laugh and shake her head, probably not believing a word of what Lexa was saying. In all honestly, Lexa was too drunk to care at that moment in time. She just wanted to be and for once not have to think about the consequence of every single thing she did.

So instead she looks around Clarke’s room and marvels at the way that her room is so explicitly designed, so carelessly beautiful and so _her_. It’s not as if she knows who Clarke is; she only knows a brief part of her – she can’t possible know how her room is laced with pieces of Clarke but somehow she just does.

There are paintings all across the walls and seldom did Lexa see an empty part of the wall. There was however, one wall that was completely untouched. Pure in its form but incomplete in its surroundings.

“You like to paint?”

Clarke snorts and nods her head, “Observant.”

Lexa ignores this and keeps staring at the paintings, all so different and all so beautiful each time a second passed by. The silence was so comfortable that it was almost lulling Lexa to a relaxing and well needed sleep, but Clarke’s voice had now come to play once again and Lexa was intent to listen.

“I’m still deciding whether I want it to remain a hobby or a career.”

Lexa’s eyes trail off of the paintings and onto Clarke, “They could both serve you well.” She breaths in carefully and tries to add another coherent sentence. “You are talented, Clarke.”

“Thank you.” She replies genuinely, and gives Lexa a real smile. One that doesn’t show a hint of malice or humour. Just a smile, a sweet thankful smile. She wants to be doused in the simplicity of it.

After a while of comforting silence, Lexa realises that the blank wall across them remained unanswered for. Normally, Lexa would let the hungry questions die down by themselves however today her mouth decided to get the best of her. “Why’s there a blank wall?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke shrugs and momentarily shuts her eyes, “I want to keep it for something special, something that will keep me going through my life. I haven’t felt enough of my life to really conjure up something that ‘pure’. I’m waiting.”

“For?”

“An entity so captivating that I just might drown inside of it.”

One tight clench in Lexa’s chest and a flood of memories rush to her, suffocating her. _I had that. I drowned in her, I did. I still am._ She wants to shut out the voice in her head and have a conversation without her toxic reminder – she can feel guilty about it later.

She hates the fact that she’s asking so many questions but she needs a distraction and Clarke is definitely good at that. “Are those paintings on your wall of grounders?” Lexa attempts to get up but the world is spinning far too much for that and she falls back down again, her back landing with a soft thud on the wall.

Clarke laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. “They are. When I had started working there I was amazed by all the scenery, how ultimately unique the place was – so I wanted to draw it. For a while it was the only thing I could draw; my muse in a way.” Her eyes drift over somewhere else and she seems deep in thought. “I’ve lost it now.”

Lexa doesn’t know what more to say to this, the way Clarke’s eyes suddenly lose life scares her to death and it builds up an anxiety inside of her that was only growing stronger by the second.

Once again however, Clarke saves her from herself. “Do you think, maybe – if it wouldn’t bother you of course – that I could draw you?”

The question is so remarkably sudden that it catches her off guard. Her? What could she offer to a drawing? She was just Lexa. “What? Now?” She manages to croak out the words without slurring them and she gives herself a mental pat on the back.

“No.” Clarke clears her throat and there is a hint of a smile on her face, “When I’m sober and not witnessing the world spin in front of me.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one.” Lexa gives Clarke a hint of a smile back but is still somewhat flattered by Clarke’s request. Her budding curiosity has now developed into a fierce yearning to know and so she soon finds out that questions are directed at Clarke more than she would like them to be. “Why me?”

Clarke isn’t looking away from her now.

Her eyes are staring right back at Lexa, and although they are hazy they strike Lexa in a way that she knows is not normal. “Honestly?” She thinks she hears her intake a shaky breath but she doesn’t want to think too much, the amount of alcohol in her blood is most probably hindering her thoughts.

“You’re unique.” She quickly sees the look of confusion on Lexa’s face and decides to give her a more clarified explanation. “I know it sounds like I’m quoting a horribly cheesy book but you really are. You’re strange and somehow irritating, but you’re intensely reserved too. You barely speak, in fact this is the most we’ve ever spoken – and yet sometimes it’s like you could have a whole conversation with just your eyes. That’s something I’d love to encapture – not fully of course.” There’s a slight pause and her eyes turn away from Lexa’s. “I’d never be able to do that.”

Clarke shrugs in spite of herself, “Maybe I’d serve better as a fucking poet rather than an artist.”

Lexa allows her a crooked smile and tries to hide the fact that her heart is beating at a faster rate than usual. (It’s the alcohol, it really is.) “Poetry is an art in itself.”

“With the way everything is nowadays, everything is ‘art’.” She scoffs.

“No.” Lexa’s brisk response comes off somewhat irritated and she takes a deep breath out to not let her get so caught up in their conversation. “Art allows us to differentiate between ourselves and others. Animals, humans - anyone really. It lets us believe that we can transcend and forget that at the end of the day - we are no better than the worst part of us”

“Well that’s a horribly pessimistic way of looking at it.” She hates the fact that she wants to agree with Clarke, but she is firm in her beliefs and after all that she has seen and went through – there could be nothing else left to believe.

“It’s realistic.” Her eyes are beginning to droop now. “If you cannot take the world for what it is and accept that, you are living a lie.”

“Maybe.” Clarke sighs and watches Lexa carefully. “But maybe there’s hope that not every single person on this planet is doomed.”

“Of course.” Lexa nods, “Only some of us are.”

The second she says it she knows that she has said too much, giving away a piece of her that is so subtle yet so obvious all at the same time. She knows because Clarke is looking at her with concerned eyes and a trembling lip that can only voice pity.

For now she is unapologetic – but tomorrow she knows she will not be.

Still, she wants to revel in the fact that she can still talk to someone. Someone totally unexpected, someone she thought to be much different to the person she’s gotten to know today. She wants to slap herself silly for judging her so easily – for continuously berating herself and in doing so shutting out the possibility of a new friendship.

She knows that this shard of positivity will go away too soon and so she will live in it for the next few hours, because if there’s one thing she can correctly register right now it is that she is feeling relieved. Relieved after the months of torturous self-hatred and hating those around her, for questioning why everything bad had to happen to her instead of questioning why she couldn’t see it in any other way.

Today she could breathe in and not have her breath catch in her throat.

Clarke was not who she thought she would be.

**

The pounding head ache troubling her vision was making Clarke regret every gulp of the intoxicating amounts of moonshine she drank yesterday.

Her alarm wakes her up to a day too bright for her mood. She wants to scream at her phone and throw it against the wall but thinks better of it. Also, she has no energy to do so.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Raven’s voice chimes in from the outside of her door and in a swift turn of the knob her door is open and susceptible to the entrance of her utterly irritating friends. “You and I have a splendid eight hour shift at grounders today, prepare yourself for a day of horror.”

Clarke groans and wants to actually kill Raven for opening her door. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Damn Griffin.” She holds a hand to her heart and clutches it dramatically, “I thought you loved me.”

The pounding in her head is only growing stronger and feared that getting up would only make it worse. “Right now I don’t love anyone. Get the fuck out of my room before I mace you with more insults.”

“Still in a bad mood then?” She leans against Clarke’s bed and crinkles her nose.

Clarke grunts and hides her face, “No. Just hungover.”

“Oh.” Raven’s crinkled nose quickly transforms into a wide smirk and her eyebrows spring upwards. “Had a certain alcohol fest with Lexa did you now?”

All at once Clarke has no tolerance for the assault of Raven’s smug accusations and ignores the dizzy feeling that has now occupied her. “Please go away.”

She hears snickering and as she walks Raven out of her room she feels a bout of uncertainty pass through her.

Fucking alcohol.

**

Walking into grounders at 8 o’clock in the morning was never worse as it could be today, and what made it even worse was the fact that Lexa was staring at her whilst quite astoundingly looking not one bit shabby.

“This one’s hungover.” Raven quickly points at Clarke as she walks past the counter, “Big time.”

Lexa doesn’t pay attention to Raven much and for a swift terrifying second Clarke thinks that everything they spoke about yesterday would be a scarce piece of information Lexa would no longer care about. For a second she ultimately believed that Lexa would go back to her lonely shell and stop speaking to her altogether.

Except there is a hint of a familiar smile on Lexa’s face and all Clarke’s nerves fall to dust.

There is still however, the very possible fact that Clarke might faint, throw up or have a fit in any second as she walks closer to the counter. She clutches onto it hastily and ignores the way her insides feel like they could melt into nothing.

“If I look like I’m going to throw up, I probably will. So back away.”

Lexa doesn’t throw her a glance as she washes the cups, “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“No.” Clarke somehow manages to smile, “Because I managed to out drink you.”

“And yet.” Lexa smirks and doesn’t even try to hide it. “You’re the one hungover at 8 o’clock in the morning. I’m quite sure that I am the winner here Clarke, not you.”

“Nope.” Clarke replies, “Not how it works. I win, you lose.”

Lexa all but shrugs, “Such childish games get you in nothing but trouble.”

“Oh please.” Clarke decides that she’s feeling a little better and helps Lexa out with the dishes. “They’re fun when you don’t play them with someone who sucks the life out of anything and everything.”

She ignores her comment and they wash the cups and plates in a comfortable silence.

For the most part the day went by smoothly, Clarke did feel like she would throw up a couple of times and feared she would on a customer about another dozen but after she finally agreed to take the Advil Raven had brought with her – the hangover started to pass.

Raven would sometimes intrude and stare at them strangely.

God knows what she was thinking.

It was Raven, after all.

Towards the end of their shift a seemingly peppy girl walked into the coffee shop with a smile that made want Clarke want to punch the lights out of her. She walks next to Lexa and leans against the counter.

“Hey! Do you sell coffee here?”

Lexa purses her lips and Clarke tries to suppress her laughter. “Yes. You’re at a coffee shop.”

“Oh!” Her smile – bordering on creepy – widened further. “That’s great! In that case could I have a Non-Fat Frappuccino with Extra Whipped Cream and Chocolate Sauce?”

Before Lexa could swiftly deny her that offer, Clarke swooped in and smiled back at the girl. “Sure! That would be five fifty!” She tries to copy the girls tone and signals for a table she can sit on.

A quick and sheer force pulls her away from the counter and as she turns her head she sees a very seemingly furious Lexa; jaw clenched tight and eyes that dart furiously around her. “What the hell are you doing? That isn’t even available on the menu!”

“Come on.” Clarke nudges a pretty much ‘so done with your shit’ Lexa and flashes a daring smile. “I’m hungry, hungover and in desperate need of entertainment.” She clears her throat, “Anyway I can’t exactly tell her that her order was cancelled. That would be unprofessional.”

Lexa gives Clarke a look of pure hatred and rolls her eyes, yet she still follows Clarke to the back of the counter. Clarke smiled inwardly and notes it as another battle won.

“So first things first – Frappuccino, easy.” She mutters to herself more than anyone else, “Non-fat? Okay, but what’s the point of fucking whipped cream and chocolate sauce on it too? I’m losing faith in humanity day by day, honestly.”

She shrugs and looks at Clarke in contempt, “You’re the one who decided to take the order.”

“Yeah.” Clarke snapped her fingers and nodded, “This isn’t too bad, I can work with this.”

She can tell that through all the unnerving glares Lexa continues to give her, that she is secretly enjoying this somewhat scandalous ‘adventure’.

“What’s up bitches?” Raven busts through the back door into the counter after her lunch break and puts her arms around both Lexa and Clarke.

Lexa doesn’t take too kindly to this form of contact and slithers out of Raven’s grasp. Raven, ignores this and looks to Clarke. Quickly, she fills her in on their little mission and Raven’s eyes go alight.

“I am so watching this.”

“Watch and learn.” Clarke raises one eyebrow and rubs her hands together.

“God Clarke, I honestly think I prefer hungover ‘I’m going to murder you in the next three seconds if you don’t shut up’ you to ‘hyped up’ you.” Raven sits down on a chair and watches as Clarke hands the ingredients to Lexa.

As Lexa tries to make the Frappuccino she actually ends up spilling all the contents on her top and is left with a massive stain. Her face contorts into one of anger and almost immediately her jaw tenses uncontrollably – irrevocably leaving a mark of embarrassment.

Clarke and Raven both end up laughing but after watching a silent Lexa vigorously wipe away at her top Clarke walks closer to her and instinctively puts her hand on her shoulder. “Hey.” Lexa’s jaw tenses up even more and Clarke quickly takes her hand away. “We all make mistakes, its fine.”

She only nods her head silently.

As she fetches another cup Raven dramatically puts her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, “It’s okay babe, we all make mistakes. Please Lexa, take my hand in marriage so we can ride off into the sunset and have beautiful sexy babies together.”

“Please, Raven. Don’t start.” She pushes past her and rolls her eyes.

When Lexa comes back with the cups she shows her how to properly make a Frappuccino without spilling it down her top. They add the (ridiculous) finishing touches and Lexa goes over to hand it to the (still strangely smiling) girl.

“Wow this is great!” She takes a big gulp and hands Lexa a 20 dollar note. “Best one I’ve ever tasted, I should come here more often!”

Lexa nods quietly and walks away and as soon as the girl leaves the shop all three of them start laughing. “’Best one I’ve ever tasted!’” Raven mimics the girl and shakes her head in disbelief before walking away to tend to another customer.

“What did I tell you?” Clarke nudges Lexa softly, “Didn’t I say it would be fun?”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” Lexa purses her lips and tilts her head to the side as she places the coffee beans back in their place. She steals a quick glance at Lexa and notices that there is a genuine smile on her face and it makes her feel incredibly happy.

For totally innocent reasons, obviously.

She hands Clarke the tip and starts to walk away but Clarke pulls her back. “No.” She gives the tip back to Lexa, “That’s yours.”

“What? Why?” She looks at Clarke suspiciously, “Are you going to use this against me in the future?”

Clarke shakes her head and pushes Lexa’s hand away from her. “Just take it, you deserve it.” Before she could say anything else, “Anyway, I get enough tips already.”

Lexa pushes her gently and starts to walk away, “Shut up.”

Stick up her ass Lexa? Not so bad.

**

She isn’t in her dorm for more than one minute after work before the phone rings. It doesn’t take a lot of thinking capacity to guess who it was.

“Good to know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.” The familiar drawl of her cousin brings her to a halt and she feels apologetic for a moment.

“Sorry.” Lexa bites her lip, “I was at work.”

“It’s fine.” Anya clears her throat on the other line. “So how did you find the party? Last time I saw you, you were rushing off into some blonde girl’s bed room. You know, the one you hate from work. What’s her name again? _Clarke_?”

“Last time I saw you, you were flirting with Bellamy.” She emphasises his name and finds herself smirking, “You know, the guy who invited _me_ to the party in the first place.”

She hears a slight chuckle, “He’s cute but there’s nothing there. Nothing more than the occasional flirt, you know?”

“No I don’t know.” She is already growing tired of the conversation and mentally thinks up of some lame excuse to halt their already dead conversation.

There is silence on Anya’s end and right before Lexa throws the phone back onto the receiver a feeble voice picks up again. “I’m proud of you for going to that party.”

“Nothing to be proud of.” Lexa sighs, “I was forced.”

“Not really.” She laughs, “You honestly think I would have been able to force you? Come on. You wanted to go, a little part of you was riling you up to try it out. You just needed a little push.”

Lexa huffs and absentmindedly twirls a piece of hair around her finger, “You barely even stayed with me, you were too busy flirting with Bellamy.”

“Lincoln was next to you and so was I, you were the one who stormed off and spent the rest of the night with blondie.”

“She was nice to me.” Lexa admitted, “And she didn’t flirt with anyone whilst I was around her, we just talked. Also, Lincoln was flirting with Octavia – I didn’t want to be stuck around a bunch of flirts.”

Anya scoffs, “Oh so you weren’t flirting with Clarke then?”

“No.”

“Really now?” The sarcasm seeps through her voice and it infuriates her even more. “So what did you do when you went to her room? Talk about the stars and how beautiful they are? Did you carve your names into each other’s souls as you professed your undying love for one another? Tell me Lexa, what did you do for a whole four hours in Clarke’s bedroom?”

“For fucks sake Anya.” She loses her temper and any sense of serendipity is lost and replaced with a fighting sense of guilt. “I have no interest in anyone else, I have repeatedly told you this. I don’t want _anything_ with _anyone_ , I’m better off alone.”

“Then you have forgotten that I have repeatedly told you that Costia is gone and you know that more than anyone.” Anya’s voice is strained and she knows that they are both involved in a losing battle.

“Stop it.” Lexa warned, “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“You’re going to have to someday.”

“Someday is _not_ today.” She hangs up and slams the phone down, overwhelmed in her rage and in her sorrow. She does not want to think about Clarke and she definitely does not want to think about Costia.

All she wants to do, is hide under her sheets and ignore the world as it goes on without her.

That’s exactly what it’s been doing for months now.

So why does she care?

Why now?

**

“Hilarious how Clarke can go from hating you to loving in you in no time.” Octavia scoffs and lays her head back on the couch. “What where you two even doing in your room anyway?” She closes her eyes and smirks, “Something PG-13 I hope.”

Clarke’s only possible response to this could be a roll of the eyes and that is exactly what she does. “Shut up.” She fiddles with the ends of her top and tries to avoid their curious eyes. “We just talked a lot and _drank_ a lot. Nothing happened and nothing’s going to happen.”

“Well.” Raven lets out a huff. “At least we know that you too really are perfect for each other.” She grabs the bowl of crisps in front of her and takes one. “You’re both equally as fucking boring.”

She ignores her comment and tries to divert the topic away from her. “How about we talk about how Octavia was hard-core flirting with that dude whose muscles are basically the size of my regrets?”

“ _Lincoln_ is very nice.” A grin appears on her face soon after, “We’re going on a date on Wednesday.”

“Wow.” Raven says mechanically, “Quick.”

Octavia’s face soon falls and her eyes avert from Raven’s insanely quickly. “Yeah.”

Clarke can feel the tension seep through her and decides that this would be the time to offer a distraction. “Grey’s Anatomy anyone?”

Soon enough they were all sitting side by side as they watched their favourite episode. Technically, it was the episode Clarke hated the most but right now she’d do anything to get the tension she was stuck in between to stop. Moments like these between Raven and Octavia confused Clarke and rekindled the curiosity inside of her, she wanted to be able to understand them but she always knew it was a lost cause. This was utterly just between her two best friends – and she had nothing to do with it.

Halfway through the episode, Clarke can feel her phone buzzing on her lap. She reaches for it and sees that an unknown number had sent her a message.

_Unknown 9:06 PM – Who is this?_

Confused, Clarke types back incessantly.

_Clarke Griffin 9:07 PM – Better question, who are you and how do you have my number?_

_Unknown 9:07 PM – Your name on my phone is basically a lot of rainbow emoji’s and I don’t have any memory of putting that down._

All of a sudden she remember lazily jotting down her number on Lexa’s phone and spamming her with a bunch of emoji’s. Quietly, without drawing too much attention to herself she smirks and writes a reply.

_Clarke Griffin 9:09 PM – Interesting._

_Unknown 9:09 PM – So, who is this?_

_Clarke Griffin 9:09PM – Your worst nightmare._

_Clarke Griffin 9:10 PM – She’s blonde, annoying and highly unprofessional._

_Unknown 9:10 PM – Clarke._

_Clarke Griffin 9:10 PM – Correct._

_Unknown 9:10 PM – I don’t remember getting your number?_

_Clarke Griffin 9:11 PM – You were highly intoxicated at the time._

_Unknown 9:11 PM – Oh. Alright then._

Clarke can feel the conversation dying but takes a shot in the dark to try rekindle it.

_Clarke Griffin 9:12 PM – What are you up to?_

_Unknown 9:12 PM – Just a 1000 word essay on the theme of guilt in Hamlet._

_Clarke Griffin 9:12 PM – Already doing that?_

_Unknown 9:13 PM – Yup._

_Clarke Griffin 9:13 PM – Efficient._

_Unknown 9:14 PM – I try to be, yes._

_Clarke Griffin 9:15 PM – Well, I’ll see you sometime next week I guess._

_Unknown 9:15 PM – Yes._

Slightly defeated she locks her phone and puts it back on her lap, burrowing her face in her hand and sighing. She couldn’t expect her to want to talk to her outside of school or work but she still did anyway. Maybe the time they spent together didn’t really change anything at all.

Yet again however, there is another buzz and she eagerly grabs her phone back.

_Lexa 9:19 PM – I’ll be awaiting your vexatious presence at Class on Monday._

Clarke laughs at Lexa’s pathetic attempt at a joke and throws her head back in content. If she wasn’t still so hungover, she could actually say that her day was getting better and better. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven gets her game on, whilst Clarke shares a personal moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that what happened over in 3x07 (for any of you who haven't watched the episode yet, stop reading because there's a major spoiler), was devastating and cruel - honestly I don't have a possible way of explaining how hopeless it made me and I'm quite sure, many people feel. Killing Lexa, and killing her in that way was a terrible message. But, I do believe that we should make the most of her character and remember her for what she truly is and what she truly is, is alive. She is alive through the thousands of different universes we have created for her and Clarke, and all the characters - she is happy and living. No, this isn't denial - she may be dead in the TV Show, but through our stories and our love for this blessed character - she is undoubtedly alive. 
> 
> I understand if some of you can't read Clexa stories anymore right now, but for those of you who feel like you can - I am sorry this took so long to get out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! (Also sorry for the long message, just wanted to make sure that people know I am aware of what is going on) Pop in at @imhellaqueer on tumblr if you have any questions!

Lexa is late.

So incredibly late, that it makes her want to hit herself for just being _herself_.

She had already missed her first two classes and now was fifteen minutes late for her third class, how much more could she fuck up in the matter of two hours?

Well. She was about to find out.

**

“Mum.” Clarke was staring at her watch and growing even more worried at the site of the time passing by quicker and quicker.

“These are not things to be taken lightly Clarke!” Her mother’s voice drones on and on and Clarke is starting to doubt that she’d be able to make it to class in time. “I understand your newfound independence is something of a new and interesting aspect to discover but you mustn’t forget that you have incredibly hard subjects to study for this year! No amount of partying is going to help you with your studies, now is it?”

If she could roll her eyes at her mother right now, she would – alas she could only sound extremely irritated via a phone call (for now). “It was one party, mum. It’s not like I’m going to start skipping class and become a teenage rebel, although at this rate if you don’t let me hang up I might just be doing one of those things.”

She can hear her mother sigh from the other end and momentarily feels bad for not understanding where she was truly coming from, but she didn’t have time for that. “Clarke, just please be responsible. I’m still adjusting to you leaving and not being around as much as usual, it’s been hard on me.”

“Hey, I know.” She replies softly as she slows down her pace through the long (and never ending) hallway. “It’s not been easy for me either, but we’ll both get used to it.” She finally sees her classroom and tries to wrap things up, “Just don’t worry about me okay?”

“Oh Clarke.” The statement is accompanied by dry laughter and it causes a pang in the pit of her stomach. “That, is something I will never stop doing.”

**

“What has caused you to be so utterly _late_ , Lexa?” Mr Green was clearly not planning on being forgiving today, and along with the dying words forming on her tongue – she could only remain silent and stare at him sheepishly. “Sit down.”

Inevitably, she makes eye contact with Clarke who is looking back at her with the same concerned eyes that make her want to fall down on her knees and forget that she ever saw them in the first place. She takes the seat next to her and gives her the smallest smile she can give, deciding to let the embarrassment flow through her rather than shame her.

Although the lesson is disinteresting and full of words she can no longer choose to comprehend (due to the undying monologue in her head), she still tries her best to focus and ignore the short tug at her stomach every time she can feel Clarke steal a glance.

Luckily, lessons did not last forever and that meant she could finally escape the classroom and its torturous hold on her. As she got up and left the classroom hastily, she could hear someone catching up with her and due to the fact that Lexa was not an idiot, it didn’t take more than one guess to realise who that was.

“Hey, Lexa.” That raspy voice was one indication, the other being the undeniably blue eyes staring back at her – the same concern etched all over them. “Are you okay?” Lexa does not look at Clarke but slows down to walk at her pace, seeing as she had no choice. “I’m asking because you look kind of…I don’t know? Alarmed?”

“I’m fine.” The answer is non-committal and at this point barely an answer, but she is quite sure it is the answer that Clarke is looking for – so she gives it to her.

Clarke nods to herself slowly and stops walking, “I don’t know who you spend break with, but you can always spend it with us – just so you know.”

For some reason Clarke’s comment makes her want to shrivel up into a little ball and close the world out forever, and it takes all the power stored within her to not lash out at her. She knows Clarke does not mean it in the way she thinks she does, but reality is not something Lexa would like to face right now.

She turns her face to Clarke and smiles at her politely, “As much as I do appreciate your request, I have a lot of work and studying to cover and I fear I work best alone.”

Lexa does not allow herself to watch Clarke’s reaction, all she hears is Clarke’s hum of an answer and the soft sound of her walking away.

Fifty minutes ago, Lexa could not think of a way she could further fuck up.

Five seconds ago, she just did.

**

Clarke is sitting down on a bench with a soggy sandwich in one hand, and a phone in the other. The screen is blank, and she’s not quite sure why she’s staring at it, but she finds that eating and staring somehow makes the voices around her blur out and the world stop.

Of course, that would not last long enough for it to matter as Raven’s booming voice is all around her and also snapping her out of any trance she’s captivated in.

“There was one point in time where I thought I was going to puke all over our new place but I literally thought of Clarke and her reaction and decided that I’d hold it in.” They’re still talking about the party, and although Clarke has grown tired of hearing the same conversation, she’ll listen in because she has nothing better to do. (Or does she?)

Bellamy laughs along with Raven and turns his gaze towards Clarke. “I don’t remember seeing Clarke for the majority of the party. Like really, I remember Raven and Octavia both drunk off of their faces, Monty and Jasper trying to find more alcohol, and I remember that Lexa walked in with two of her friends but for the life of me I cannot figure out where _you_ were.” There’s an edge to his voice and Clarke can already tell that this is all an act, and prepares herself for the worse.

“Oh Clarke?” Raven scoffs, “She was off with her lover.”

“Oh really?” His rye reply shoots back. “Who’s that?”

“Lexa, of course.” She laughs, a cold dry laughter that drives Clarke’s eyes to the back of her head and back again. “Who else could she bitch about and then spend a whole night with?”

The table erupts into another bout of laughter, most of it now coming from Jasper and Monty and in that very moment, Clarke wants to grab her bag and walk away with the utmost dignity.

She was never one who liked to be teased.

“Funny.” Clarke replies, “ _I_ also remember Bellamy desperately flirting with one of Lexa’s friends, and Octavia the other.”

“Blakes go for the best.” Is all that Octavia replies before Bellamy laughs once again, incessantly sipping his soft drink. “Only difference is that I actually scored a date with the guy, Bellamy - who by the way is the weaker sibling - didn’t.”

He rolls his eyes and flips his sister off, “I’m pretty sure I could have scored a date with her too, if I wanted to.”

“Oh?” Octavia scoffs and surveys her brother with beady eyes, “That’s totally why you weren’t letting her move without following her every step of the way, I suppose.”

Raven smiles and lifts one eyebrow at Bellamy, “For a second there I thought I was too late, but clearly I’m not.” She lifts her hand up in victory, “Lexa’s hot friend whose name I will soon find out, here I come.”

“What makes you think she’s going to go for you?”

Raven tilts her head towards Octavia in a question-like manner, and a slight grimace encompasses her face as she does so. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to try now would it?”

Octavia shoots a death glance back at Raven and for the life of her, Clarke cannot understand what the hell was going on with the both of them, and for that same reason – she did not care.

And so, Clarke rolls her eyes and somewhere along the way she loses track of the conversation and gives in to the burning temptation to grovel in her own thoughts. This was easy. This was the only conversation she could actually keep track of, no matter how fast – how utterly abrupt each form of thought was – it was always there, for her to try and make sense of.

And yet, today this was not the case.

Today her thoughts were plummeting from one doubt to another, questioning herself – questioning others. It would not stop. It seemed, it had placed a damper over her eyes and nothing could be looked at in the same way. She could rack her brain for days on end and she still wouldn’t find out the source of the discontent rooted deep inside herself.

Maybe, it was for that reason that Clarke reached out for her phone and opened up Lexa’s contact number. She types a quick message, and before thinking about how much she would want to bury her head in a pile of dust for the rest of eternity – she sent it.

_Clarke Griffin 12:37 PM – Hey sorry if I’m bugging you or anything but do you have a shift tonight?_

_Lexa 12:38 PM – No, I do not._

_Clarke Griffin 12:38 PM – Well neither do I and for the sake of our newfound friendship (I’m calling it that now since we don’t hate each other anymore?) I was wondering if you wanted to maybe do something?_

_Clarke Griffin 12:38 PM – With Raven and I. Obviously._

Her eyes stared at her phone screen incessantly for the next few minutes, until she finally gave up and took the absence of an answer as a firm no.

Two refusals in the span of thirty minutes?

That did not sit well with Clarke.

**

Thirty minutes and Lexa still has no idea what the hell to reply to such a message.

Still, she can’t see what wrong it would do to actually accept the invitation – and then there’s the other part of her telling her it’s a horrible idea which of course she _has to_ agree with.

Her thoughts conflict themselves over and over again, there’s absolutely no consistency in her thoughts and perhaps that somehow reflects on her life too. Her struggle to reply to such a message is not in any way ‘hilarious’ or ‘cringe-worthy’ it’s just plain pathetic, and the fact that Lexa is so very aware of this – makes it all so much worse.

There is not one day, not one _second_ that she is not aware of herself. She knows everything there is to know about her coping mechanisms, her avoidance issues, and the inevitability of her detaching from every single person she ever knew. She is not a mystery – at least not to herself.

Who she is at the very core, who she truly is; cannot be defined by anyone but herself. Running away from what she is, would be so simple and so frightful that it actually tempts Lexa but, she knows it is an effort wasted on deception.

All she knows, is that who she _wants_ to be is not _this_.

So that’s why, after thirty minutes, Lexa does indeed decide to reply to Clarke.

_Lexa 1:06 PM – Of course, thank you for the invite. Would it be alright if I asked my friend Anya to come along?_

Unsurprisingly, a message shoots back straight away.

_Clarke 1:06 PM – As long as you come, you can bring whoever the hell you want._

**

“So instead of us having a lovely best friend - like day whilst Octavia’s off boning her new lover.” Clarke doesn’t miss the almost immediate change of tone towards the end of her sentence, “You decide to get your _own_ lover to join us. Rude. Very rude.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as she prepares the snacks she got from the grocery store down the road in a big bowl. “Shut up, she’s getting Anya with her.”

Raven stops to look at Clarke and jerks her head backwards, with a visible smirk on her face. “You mean, the really hot girl that Bellamy tried to score but didn’t because he is a miserable wreck? Because if your answer to that is yes, you are eternally the greatest woman to ever live on this planet.”

“ _Yes_.” Clarke chuckled slightly, “The one you’re most probably going to use your horribly cheesy jokes on until you both realise that the couch is too small for the both of you to screw on.”

She scoffs lightly as she reaches for the glasses at the bottom shelf, “Come on Clarke, we all know that I’ll probably make you piss off from the couch _before_ we screw.”

“You can try, but my ass will not budge.” She grabs the cheap bottle of wine she bought along with the snacks and places it on the table in front of them, somehow feeling like she needed to impress Lexa and show her that not everything about her life (besides her two adorably irresponsible friends) was ‘unprofessional’.

She hears Raven makes noises of disapproval behind her and turns to face her.

“What?”

“More alcohol?” She tilts her head knowingly, “Isn’t that like, the catalyst of your relation-shit with Lexa?”

Clarke goes back to doing what she knows best – rolling her eyes. “It’s going to be the catalyst of your soon to be death if you don’t shut the fuck up and go take a shower.”

“You’re right.” Raven nods as she walks to the bathroom, “I need to smell good if I want to get laid tonight.” She shrugs before closing the door, “Not that my sheer beauty and charm wouldn’t win her over anyways.”

She waits for the running of water till she collapses on the couch and groans inwardly. She was exhausted, and not for reasonable reasons. Unless, spending three hours on grocery shopping was reasonable, of course.

Maybe the part of her that was supposed to think rationally had decided to turn itself off since she moved out of her mum’s house and into her own. Maybe the only reason she went through all the effort to make sure her house looked amazing tonight, was for the reason it definitely should not have been.

It scared her to think that Lexa could have been right, that she was enticing enough to make the way she saw the world seem false. She hated it, she didn’t want it, and she didn’t need it. (And yet, the rational part of her – the one that was supposed to be switched off – points out that she’s wrong, so very wrong.)

More than anything, she was tired of thinking. It was useless, and all it made her do was chastise herself for everything she had done wrong – even it was five years ago.

No.

She was not letting herself fall down the same hole over and over again.

The thinking had to stop.

**

 

“Tell me, dear cousin.” Lexa rolls her eyes before even questioning what insult would come out of Anya’s mouth next, “What the fuck is so interesting about this dull room to make you fear even staying out of it for more than three seconds?”

“Nothing.” Lexa sighs, “I’m not afraid, I simply have a preference, _Anya._ ”

Anya scoffs and reaches for Lexa’s hand, “A preference?” She clasps her hand tightly and Lexa’s jaw tenses irrevocably, and it’s the same old story again. “This is not a fucking preference, this is a death sentence – and not the one that you’ve committed on your social life, I mean the one you’re going to commit, on _yourself_.”

“I’m not going to kill myself Anya, _Jesus_.” She roughly snatches her hand away from her and rubs it with her own thumb, “I’m fine.”

“Oh fuck _off_.” Anya rolls her eyes and looks straight into Lexa’s, “You might not kill yourself, but you’ll kill all the _good_ if you keep shutting everyone out.”

Lexa opts to remain silent, violently wishing she never asked Anya to come with her in the first place. Instead, she is filled with an irreversible tension that will take ages and ages to even _begin_ to subside. Her hands are now curled into fists, blood boiling, furious through her veins and she is fed up of having to explain herself.

Silence ensues and Anya exhales heavily, “Ignore me all you want, Lexa – but if there’s one thing you can’t ignore it’s your feelings. No matter how much you try to, you will never be able to ignore the part of you that is human, because you know, you actually fucking _are one_. You think and think, but you _feel_ ten times as much. _I know you_ , just like you know me. You don’t fool me.”

“ _Enough!_ ” Her voice is never this loud, never this close to breaking. And yet, today it just is. “I don’t want to hear this anymore. Feelings may not be detrimental to you but they are detrimental to _me._ ”

“No Lexa!” Anya’s voice is just as loud and her determination to show her just as loud as it can go, almost scares her. “Fuck you and shutting everyone out, avoiding everything that can be avoided, averting your own family like they’re the goddamn plague – _stop it_.” Her breaths are shaky, and Lexa knows this because Anya’s breath is always shaky when she’s about to cry. “Do you think that it doesn’t pain me to see you like this? That it doesn’t pain me or Lincoln? Gustus? You think, it wouldn’t pain Indra or Costia?”

“ _Stop_.”

“She’s **dead**.”

The words hit her like they hit her the first time she heard them. Two words, eight letters and they still have such an effect on her.

“ _I know.”_

And it is the last thing that Lexa says before grabbing her car keys and walking out of her dorm room.

**

The doorbell rings and just about when it’s Clarke’s cue to panic, Raven opens the door. (When Raven wants to get laid, she _will_ get laid.)

“Hey Lexa, nice to actually see you looking grumpy _outside_ of Grounders for once.” Clarke doesn’t hear a reply and frowns inwardly. “Hello person with really high cheekbones.”

Clarke is already done with listening to Raven’s pathetic attempts before walking up to greet Lexa. “Hey.” She gives Lexa a delicate smile and finds herself standing awkwardly in front of her.

For some reason, none of this feels right. Lexa is here, in her house and yet it feels like she really isn’t here. Her face is placid – expressionless and her eyes fiercely avoid Clarke’s, boring through the wall right behind her. It seems as if she is looking at everything but Clarke, with flared nostrils and vehement breaths.

She was about to ask if she was okay but Raven interrupts their conversation, “Clarke, get your ass on the couch and introduce yourself to Anya you goddamn nasty bitch.”

Clarke exhales roughly but shoots a slight smirk towards Raven. “Come on.” Is all she tells Lexa quietly, before retreating back into the living room.

“Sorry I was-”

“Chatting up my cousin?” Anya watches Clarke carefully and seems determined not to look away.

Raven tries her best not to, but ends up snorting with laughter anyway. (When could Clarke ever really count on her?)

Before Clarke can interject, Lexa clenches her fists and inhales deeply. “There was a time you used to have manners, Anya.”

“There was a time you didn’t used to look like someone shat on your favourite piece of artwork.” Anya shoots back, leaving Clarke even more confused than usual.

Clarke looks at Raven pointedly and raises her eyebrow, which easily translated to ‘What the fuck is going on?’ So, she shrugs and clears her throat. (She takes it back, Raven occasionally can be counted on.)

“ _Anyway_ , there are three options on what to watch.” She draws out a terribly long drum roll on her lap and grabs the box sets behind her, “It’s either _Grey’s Anatomy_ , _Jersey Shore_ -” Raven stares at the DVD set and frowns, “ ** _Jersey Shore_**?”

Clarke grabs the DVD set from her hand, “Give me that.”

“You watch _Jersey Shore_?”

“When I’m bored.” She stashes the DVD set under her pillow.

“God.” Raven smirks, “Who knew you were such a loser?”

Clarke rolls her eyes and kicks her gently with her foot and (of course) at all costs, avoids the scrutinising look that Lexa is giving her.

“ _Okay_.” She sighs, “There are now only two options, the other one being _Sisters_.”

“Seriously?” Clarke folds her arms together, “We’ve watched _Sisters_ over a million times thanks to yours and Octavia’s obsession with Amy Poehler.”

Anya clears her throat and squints at her and Raven, “Uh, I for one am not watching Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Me neither.” Lexa’s voice is far lower, but heard nonetheless.

“ _Sisters_ it is!”

So, in the matter of fifteen minutes they were all sitting down on the sofa, watching a movie clearly no one was truly interested in. Lexa looked down at the floor more often than actually bothering to look at the screen, whilst Clarke’s hands were diving into the snacks she had bought.

Raven’s hands, where probably soon to be snaking down Anya’s pants at the rate they were at. Anya’s legs were carefully placed on Raven’s lap and her body was nowhere near at an angle to actually look at the screen. Shifting glances and low voices made Clarke want to hit Raven across the head with the wine bottle she so desperately wanted to drink from.

Quite frankly, Clarke was feeling on edge. She was in between Lexa – who for the life of her seemed to want to be anywhere but there, Raven who really just wanted to get laid and Anya who didn’t really seem to like her. It was uncomfortable, and she was regretting making any effort in the first place.

Her blood started to boil the more she thought about it and she was pretty close to kicking all of them out of the apartment. Including Raven.

Yet, after an agonizing thirty minutes, Raven gets up and whispers in Clarke’s ear “You better hope these rooms are sound proof.”

Clarke shudders and sighs deeply, “Enjoy.” Raven doesn’t bother to whisper back and Clarke watches as her and Anya leave to Octavia (/Raven’s?) bedroom.

Now that she was left alone with Lexa, (once again) – she was feeling even more uncomfortable than before. The girl was a mystery, and not in the oh-so ‘poetic way’ – she was a painful kind of mystery. Closed off to the world and everyone in it, it was hard to have a proper conversation, especially with mood swings likes hers.

But it was quite obvious, that having invited her she was going to have to be the one to initiate any type of conversation and despite the annoyance it conjured up inside of her, she had no choice.

“I don’t think anyone’s really watching this movie.” She grabs the remote from the table in front of her and places the bowl she was snacking from on the table instead of it. Switching off this damn movie was probably going to be the highlight of her night.

Lexa nods in agreement but says nothing, which makes Clarke all the more annoyed.

“Honestly, I’m sitting here praying that I won’t have to stay up the whole night listening to Raven and Anya get it on.” Besides hoping that it would squeeze out some kind of reaction from Lexa, she also _really_ hoped it would be true.

“I apologise.” Lexa sighs, (which is better than nothing at this point) “She’s not usually so forward.”

Clarke shrugs, “Raven on the other hand, is. So it’s probably not her fault.”

Lexa’s eyes do not leave the floor and Clarke was perilously trying to understand what was so fucking interesting down there.

Realising that their conversation was dead, Clarke had no effort left in her anymore – and it was honestly painful to keep on trying, so she did what she could only do at this point and just be brutally honest.

“Look, do you want to go home?” The strain in her voice gave way to her frustration and she almost felt bad for it.

“Anya’s my lift home.”

“I can give you a lift, it’s no problem.”

This time, Lexa looks back at Clarke and there is some kind of confusion staring back at her. Moments pass before she replies and Clarke is somewhat mesmerized, not by Lexa – but by the realisation that she wants nothing but for Lexa to stay.

It’s unsettling.

Maybe, she just wants the company. (Despite the ironic lack of it).

“No, _no_.” She runs a hands through her hair and absentmindedly bites at her upper lip. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude.”

Then again, Clarke never wanted to make her feel bad. “You’re not, I just noticed you looked…I don’t know, kind of gone? Like you’re not really here and well, it was just a little disconcerting.” Realising she was not helping Lexa feel any better she continued, “I don’t mean that the way you think I do-”

“It’s fine.” Lexa’s eyes were back down on the floor this time, “Anya and I had a small argument before we came here, so I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“Oh.” She watches Lexa carefully and wishes that she didn’t seem so _afraid_ all the time, and yet taking a closer look at her she realised she had used the wrong adjective. _Guarded_. That’s what she was, not afraid. She had to respect it, of course – and she did. She respected everything about Lexa, and she didn’t know why. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Her eyes drift on to the full wine bottle and grabs a glass, “Do you want to drink about it?”

“Not really.”

“Well.” Clarke opens the bottle and pours some wine into it. “I will.”

After a sip, Clarke tries to somehow get through to Lexa again. “What do you want to do?” Her tone is softer this time, and she surprises herself altogether.

Clarke doesn’t know if seconds or minutes pass until she answers, but it feels like an eternity and maybe by the time she actually does answer – Clarke might be drunker than she wanted to be by the end of the night.

But she does.

And her answer is surprising.

“I think I want to talk.” Her eyes are on Clarke and her grasp on the wine glass subconsciously becomes tighter. “I don’t know about what, but I just want you to talk. Like last time, in your room. I want to listen, I don’t want to think – just listen.”

Clarke frowns and for a couple of seconds, she _too_ is lost for words.

“I don’t have that many interesting stories that don’t revolve around Raven or Octavia.” She laughs a bitter laugh, “Except maybe Finn but well I’d rather not-”

Finishing that sentence would prove to be impossible when her heart felt like it could drop to her stomach any second then. She didn’t want to say his name and she never ever wanted to mention him in that context again but she did, she _did_ and maybe there _was_ a reason behind it.

Her free hand moves to her lips and she closes her eyes violently. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She hears this and opens her eyes up again, surprised to see Lexa composed of a mixture of both concerned and alarmed.

“I think I do now.” She sighs, “I think I want to.”

There is no reason why she is doing all of this, in fact – she worries that she might be losing her mind. Finn was off limits – especially to people she barely knew but Lexa? Lexa wasn’t just that, Lexa made her want to talk forever and never stop.

She didn’t care why. At least, not right now.

Lexa stares at her and waits for a response whilst Clarke racks her brain over and over to see where she could start. Does she start by saying how it all fell apart? Or does she start with the pain and betrayal of loving someone and having to let it go when they don’t see you the way they used to? What can possibly make her feel better? What makes her story so much more different to the average person who got fucked over by someone they loved?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

So she goes ahead and says fuck all to all her doubts.

“Tenth grade and it was typical.” She shrugged and took a sip of her wine, “I had a crush on him for ages, although I used to feign annoyance when he was around me.” She can’t help but laugh at herself, laugh at the memories – laugh at her immaturity. “Wells was the first one I told since he was my best friend at the time and also had a teeny weeny bit of a crush on me so it was slightly heart breaking for him.”

“Are you two not best friends anymore?”

Clarke shakes her head, “No we are, he just studies at another college in another state so it’s kind of impossible to meet up with him right now.”

“Oh alright.” She motions for her to go on, “Sorry for interrupting you.”

Another gulp of her wine and she’s ready to continue the story. “Anyway, eventually it wasn’t a secret anymore because at the time I didn’t understand that telling three people practically meant telling the whole school, so whilst we were out at some party he told me he had heard loads of rumours about me liking him and what not – and you can guess the rest.”

Lexa nods and purses her lips, which somehow makes telling the rest of the story so, _so_ much harder.

“Finn was my first everything – first real kiss, first boyfriend, first time – he was everything to _me_.” She sighed, realising her glass was already gone. “Maybe that was why it was so wrong, so _unhealthy_. I loved him in ways that made me fall at his every whim, anything he did – was a good thing. Even if it was inherently bad or stupid, I would just laugh and say it was just ‘ _Finn being Finn_ ’. For a while, he felt the same way – and we were undoubtedly attached at the hip. Two years, of absolute bliss.”

“Somewhere along the way though, he stopped feeling that way.” Of course, this she hates to admit. This, tore her up inside and buried her to the ground, and she isn’t quite sure if she has yet resurfaced. “I don’t know why, and he probably doesn’t either, all we both know is that it happened and the only thing I could do was sit and watch us die.”

Half the bottle is gone now, and she isn’t sure if the light headedness is the effect of the wine – or the intoxicating essence of remembering Finn in such vividness. “It hurt, to say the least. Only, what made everyone around me hate him was his ambition – or maybe, over ambition.” The glass was at her mouth again, and with every gulp she remembered how ultimately terrible his next actions were. It was betrayal and although nowhere close to being the worst type, it was a betrayal nonetheless. “When he started to lose his feelings for me, he began to gain them for Raven – which I guess, was something he couldn’t control.”

She hates that there are tears welling up in her eyes, and she hates that she still feels weak. Blinking away the tears grew incessant and beyond annoying, but she did not want Lexa to see her crying over this. It was pathetic. And she, was nowhere close to _being_ pathetic. “We were a whole group of friends, we stayed together – all of us, and so he knew very well that Raven and I were best friends. He didn’t only know it, he _witnessed_ it for two fucking years and yet he still went ahead and asked her out not even a _week_ after he broke up with me.”

Clarke didn’t want a response, she didn’t want a gasp or a pitiful sigh, and that was exactly what she did _not_ see when she looked at Lexa. What she saw, was understanding – she saw the pain that she felt reflected in Lexa and it nearly broke her heart to think that this person, this familiarly _unusual_ girl she believed to be a cold unfeeling bitch – was quite the opposite. Maybe, it should have not taken her by surprise. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so judgemental in the first place.

Either way, Clarke felt it. She felt this connection with Lexa and now she knew, she _knew_ that she would not let it go.

How could she?

“Anyway.” She needed to finish her story before beginning to contemplate her friendship with Lexa. “Raven obviously declines his pitiful offer, in fact she was kind of disgusted and told him to piss off.” She laughs at Raven’s description to this day, and she is reminded of how much she loves her. “But, really? The fact that he asked her in the first place was betrayal on its own.”

“I was heartbroken, and _way_ more than him of course.” She sighs, “For him it was like losing a friend but for me?” She allows herself a bitter laugh before continuing, “It was like losing a part of me. He was my best friend, I used to tell him everything there was to say; he was there for me just like Raven and Octavia were – he was a true friend, and losing that and his affection was just ultimately devastating for me. It still does feels like that, considering he broke up with me early in the summer – but for the most part, I am actually over him.”

She gulps the rest of her wine and decides that she had had far more than enough for the night, and after all going to class with a hangover was not something she would be proud of. “Recently, I had bumped into him when I was buying some necessities for the apartment and it was _extremely fucking awkward_ but he stuck around for a bit and we went for a coffee.” She shrugged, “We caught up a bit and I was the one who offered that we shouldn’t ruin our friendship for our own sakes, to which of course – he agreed. I mean, it would have been pretty conceited if he didn’t right?”

There it is. _Admiration_. She doesn’t seek it, she doesn’t even want it but there it is, staring at her right in the face and for the first time ever after a ‘Finn’ conversation – she feels great. “That’s extremely mature of you, considering he was quite the asshole.”

“Wow.” Clarke raises her eyebrows, “Did you applaud me and swear all in the same sentence? _Jesus_ , Lexa since when do you even swear?”

The admiration is gone and she is met with a playful type of silence – accompanied by a roll of her eyes, of course. “You do know that I am capable of swearing, yes Clarke?”

“Of course I do.” She smirks, “I just thought you didn’t want to show your capability of being unprofessional to the queen of incompetence herself.”

“Funny.” She shakes her head but before she says another word, Clarke knows there’s a change of tone. “I do appreciate all that you have just told me, I too know how hard it is to -” There is a pause and Clarke knows for a fact that she is contemplating – processing, she knows because she does it too. “ _Share_ personal things, and the fact that you have chosen to share something like this with _me_?” Her cold, hard exterior is broken for a couple of seconds, and it’s gratitude that Clarke is welcomed by. “Well it just changes everything really.”

Clarke frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I judged you far too quickly, and I am deeply sorry for that.” For the first time that night, she smiles – and although it isn’t the type of smile you would expect from the average person but so far Lexa proved to be nothing like your average person. “You are strong, Clarke. Forgiveness is an underrated gift.”

She nods in agreement, “Oh I know, trust me I do. But I have had months to think and understand, and I have learnt that not everything really _can_ be understood.” Her eyes drop to her hands for a second, and she fidgets with them. “Holding a grudge would never have ended up in my favour, it’s a fruitless effort.”

“My friends all hate him of course – especially Bellamy.” She chuckles and looks back up at Lexa, “God he really hates him, like I’m pretty sure he would do the whole ‘alpha male’ thing and beat him up if he saw him right now.”

Lexa laughs too and Clarke’s smile lifts up to her ears like it never has before and as much as she is confused by it, she embraces it.

Her eyes drift towards the clock across her and she realises that time flew by far quicker than she thought it would. “It’s already midnight?” She yawns, aware of the conditioned response. “God I _wonder_ what the fuck those two are doing in there.”

Lexa hums in agreement, “Responsible things I’m sure, especially with one of them leaving me here without a lift.”

“Well, if you’d like to you could always sleep here.” But knowing the response, she answers for Lexa herself. “Although, I know you wouldn’t want to.”

A blush creeps ups Lexa’s cheeks and Clarke decides that she wouldn’t tease her further. It would be quite cruel if she did (and it would ruin everything they had accomplished tonight), considering she was one to respect people’s boundaries. “I’ll give you a lift to campus.”

“Oh no.” She gets up and dusts her laps, “I can walk it back, it’s no problem.”

Clarke shakes her head vigorously and gets up to grab Octavia’s keys from the kitchen, “Even if it was a five minute walk back I wouldn’t let you walk it there at this time of the night. Fuck knows the amount of creeps that live around here.” She waves the keys in front of Lexa, “its Octavia’s car, but I got my driver’s licence a long time ago.”

“Why don’t you have a car of your own then?”

“Saving up for one.” Or better, denying money from her mother because of her so desperate attempt to be independent – but she could probably leave that out today.

The drive to campus is silent but comfortable, especially since both of them are being lulled to sleep due to the smooth journey through the car. The atmosphere was serene, and Clarke had a feeling they both were lacking that sense of serenity for a while now.

Before getting out of the car, Lexa shoots a small smile back at Clarke. “Again, thank you very much for today _and_ for the lift home.”

“It’s nothing.” She shoots a small smile back at Lexa and watches her walk away.

Needless to say, the smile was strapped onto her face until she got back home and fell asleep.

**

To think, that from having such a horrifyingly stressful day she could end up completely de-stressed and _dare she say it_ \- somewhat happy, was some kind of phenomenon to her. This feeling was foreign but not unwanted, and she, at that very moment could not think of one thought to debunk this said feeling.

And so, for the first time in almost _two years_ she falls asleep peacefully – with the welcome absence of guilt in her mind.

**

Clarke’s ears are the first to rise up at the sound of conflict.

She never really knew why – but they always did. It was one of her most annoying features since she was a child – she just always needed to know what was going on.

So thirty minutes before her alarm she is out of bed, full awake – completely eager to see why hushed statements were becoming loud accusations.

“You couldn’t have picked another place to fuck her, could you?” Clarke could take note of Octavia’s let’s call it ‘determined’ voice from a mile away – most probably anyone could. “Did it have to be my fucking bed? Of all the places, you had to screw her in _my_ room?”

“Pretty sure it’s _our_ room.”

“No!” Octavia quite clearly is not in the mood to be sassed, and it is not the first time Clarke has watched them fight so passionately over such trivial things. “Your room is the empty one next to the bathroom that you never fucking use, so you might as well have got your fucking juices flowing on your own bloody bed!”

Although Clarke knows Octavia has a point, she also knows that there is more to this than what meets the eye – but once again, she ignores the thought as soon as it enters her mind.

“For fuck’s sake Octavia!” She can hear a heavy thud on the table and it almost shocks Clarke. _Almost_ , because it _is_ Raven and Octavia after all. “You’re making a big deal because I screwed someone on your blessed bed but I’ve had to listen to you _wanting_ to screw Lincoln for the whole fucking week.” There’s a screech of a chair and some more noise after that, which Clarke guesses is the screech of Octavia’s chair itself. “You were on a date with Lincoln yesterday, weren’t using your fucking room and I ended up using it myself without thinking so sorry if I fucking ‘ruined’ your day but I thought you wouldn’t really give a shit seeing as you had your own fun with muscly boy, right?”

Clarke feels like it’s not her place to listen to the rest of their argument and goes back inside her room, closing the door silently. It’s not the worst fight they’ve had – and she isn’t worried, but it’s the type of fight that hurts to watch, because there are undertones behind it that she does not allow herself to think of.

She checks her phone to take her mind off it and surprisingly, finds a message from Lexa.

_Lexa 7:07 AM – I’ve got a shift at 6 today, right after finishing lectures at 5 – so you and Raven better not bug my ass._

Clarke’s eyebrows raise at Lexa swearing once again and the part of her that finds someone so formal being quite the opposite funny, also finds it endearing.

_Clarke Griffin 7:07 AM – Woops. Just me today. Sorry._

 

It’s quite obvious however, that Clarke is anything _but_ sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa get stuck in the coffee shop together and well...things get pretty intense.

Octavia is her best friend.

She could spell it out in a million different ways and it would still be true, each and every time. She knows that, and maybe somehow – everyone knows that.

What she doesn’t know, at this very minute – is why she feels like the tension between them could break a wall one thousand times over. Her car is messier than when she had used it yesterday to take Lexa back to campus, and that was saying something considering anything owned by Octavia was usually in mint condition. (Besides her room, surprise surprise.)

She decides that asking Octavia what the hell was up – would not necessarily be a good idea considering she was driving them home and Clarke was just beginning to look forward to certain days more than others.

Octavia’s driving is rapid and without any explanation; furious. She knows that she should say something, she knows because it is on the tip of her tongue ready to explode, but once again Clarke decides agains it. She’ll mention it the minute they go home, but for now Clarke is enjoying her life enough to say she’d like to avoid an intense car collision.

No words are exchanged throughout the whole drive back home and it is of no coincidental event that Raven herself is nowhere to be found. As much as she’d like to stay out of it, things can only go too far before she can intervene.

Somehow, Octavia must have sensed that Clarke was not going to let her off easy and yet still went ahead and tried to rush into her room with a swift grab of her keys.

“No way.”

“What?” Her question is barely a question and more of a dagger to the throat but nonethless it does not phase Clarke.

“You _know_ what.” Clarke gives Octavia a very questionable eyebrow raise and walks an inch closer to her, “What’s going on between you and Raven?”

Her eyes drift away from Clarke’s in such an exasperated way that it strikes Clarke once again that the situation might be just a little bit out of hand. “Please Clarke, just don’t ask.”

On any other day, any normal, regular day she would have let Octavia walk into her room and leave her be – but today is not in any possible way a ‘regular’ day, so she follows her and closes the door behind her. As she sits down on the dishevelled bed she can feel Octavia’s discontent dissolve inside her, but ignores the way it seeps inside her like a toxin.

“I know that something’s going on between you two, and as much as I’d like to leave this room and continue my day normally, I can’t.” She can hear a subtle sigh come out from Octavia’s mouth and it makes her own heart weep for her. “I just want to help.”

“Well you _can’t._ ” Her voice is rugged and detached, nothing about it screamed anger; infact all it screamed was desperation. “That’s not how things work.” She pauses to think for a second, and then shakes her head. “At least not this time.”

 _God_ the mixed signals. What could be so bad, so utterly horrible that she wouldn’t dare to talk about it with her? Then, somehow it dawns upon her.

_She’s scared._

And it shouldn’t be some big realisation to Clarke, because it’s pretty fucking obvious but it is and that’s what makes Clarke manage to string along the next few couple of sentences.

“Let me ask you a question O.” She clears her throat and sets her eyes on Octavia’s. “Why do you think I asked you and Raven to come live with me here?”

She scoffs and stares back at Clarke, with a whole lot of defiance locked in her eyes. “Easy. So that the rent would be cheaper.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and groans inwardly, but keeps on going anyway. “ _Yes._ ” She spits the word out pointedly, making it noticeable that Octavia’s attempts at escaping their conversation was not one bit amusing. “But as you know, you two are my best friends. I could have asked anyone to join me here to make some hot shot apartment a little less money hogging, but I wanted _you_ two.”

“Maybe I don’t say it enough, or make it obvious enough but you two are the people I work my life around. You guys are the reason I have made it out of so many horrible situations, and why I will make it out of the many more to come.” Things were going to get intensely honest, but sometimes things just had to be that way. “You two fight, and you fight a whole lot but it seems like every fight you have gets worse and worse and I don’t know what to say about that?”

She clears her throat, “Look, the last thing I want to do is get involved but you two are my best friends and I want to be there for both of you. That’s all.”

Octavia’s eyes close and she takes a couple of shaky breaths before allowing a couple of tears to fall down her cheeks, onto the duvet and onto the pale white shirt she had chosen to wear that day. Each blot, each temporary stain dug a hole in Clarke’s heart she couldn’t get rid of.

“ _Tell me_.”

“I don’t _know_.” She wipes at her eyes vigorously and exhales roughly, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing her and it scares me. Why the fuck wouldn’t it? It’s like she pulls away - then comes back, then drives off a thousand fucking miles away and it’s frustrating.” Clarke just watches her, lets her rant. “Actually no? Frustrating is not the right word, I think something like ‘dispiriting’ is a better match.” Her hands flail from one side to the other, her words are tough, sharp and not in any way impulsive.

She paces around her room, kicks the chair to her right and goes on and on. “And now that I met some guy I feel like she’s just been acting even more distant, and I don’t get it? Like what the fuck did I do to you can’t I be happy? My best friend doesn’t want me to be happy and that makes me-” She pauses, thinks about what she should say next and lets it go. “Sad. For lack of a better and more useful word it just makes me _sad_.”

Clarke walks up to Octavia and grabs her from her shoulders, wipes her eyes and holds her like she’d want to be held. Octavia doesn’t cry, all she does is hug her back and let her head delve deeper and deeper into the crook of Clarke’s neck.

“Come on.” She rubs Octavia’s back gently and sighs, “I’ll talk to her, but until then you can’t let it affect your whole life because this is all going to pass, okay?” She ignores the horribly doubtful look that takes residence on Octavia’s face and pulls back from their hug. “Tell me about Lincoln, get your mind off it.”

Slowly, she nods and albeit the solemn expression on her face, Clarke still did notice the brief upward curve of Octavia’s lips and all Clarke wanted to feel at that very moment – was just like her.

And as Octavia fills the room up with talk of Lincoln, how utterly adorable he was, respectful, knowledgeable, talented ( _especially_ in bed), Clarke is filling up her head with unfulfilled desires and questionable feelings.

Had she forgotten how much she craved the gratifying experience of getting to know someone? Were the silky touches and soft kisses under heavy sheets and heated conversations just a part of her dulled out past? Or was it a desire of the present? Perhaps nothing could beat the scent of someone wafting into your life so casually that it becomes _home_.

Why did she want that? That aspect of her life was out of boundaries, at least just for now. She didn’t have the time or the mind to care about someone in that way – not when it proved to be toxic to herself.

So why did she care? Why now?

“Did you know they were cousins by the way?”

Clarke snaps out of her trance and guiltily turns her attention back to Octavia. “Who?”

“Him and Lexa.” A sly smirk is met after her name is uttered and Clarke rolls her eyes before she could even guess the next thing to come out of Octavia’s mouth. “He’s also Anya’s brother so if you would finally hop on that, we’d be screwing three extremely attractive _and_ related human beings.”

Clarke doesn’t even bother rolling her eyes this time, “Not this again, _please_.”

“ _Relax_ , it’s just a joke.” Octavia looks at Clarke and away, her lips pursed together and after another second of consideration, she continued her sentence. “Lincoln mentioned something small about her.” She hesitated, but spoke again. “Well, not really small…I guess you could say it’s more like some kind of insight.”

“Just say it O.”

“Well he said that she’s been through a lot and he worries about her daily.” She chuckled awkwardly, “Before you ask why, he obviously didn’t say.”

Clarke pretends that the piece of information didn’t faze her one bit. It’s not as if she was completely blind to the way Lexa’s eyes always tried their best to avoid hers, or the little bits of information she would never let out. Maybe, it was because they were both still somewhat strangers, all though by now she’d like to think that they were actually friends.

“Oh alright. That’s unfortunate I guess.”

Octavia hums in agreement and places her legs on Clarke’s lap. “So how was it last night?”

“Oh wow last night?” Clarke momentarily laughs at the memory, “Well for starters, Anya and Raven-”

There’s a sharp noise that sounds like something got squashed in the middle of Octavia’s throat and a stiff tension of her shoulders. “Skip that part.”

“Okay.” Clarke replies awkwardly, trying her best not to over analyse everything. “Basically, we were left alone and after a while I got tired of the awkward tension between us and asked her if she wanted to go home.”

“Ouch.”

She chuckled in response, “Yeah I know.”

“She apologised and we actually started having a normal conversation.” Clarke bites her lip at the next piece of information she was going to give out, mainly because she knew exactly the consequence it would have. “I also kind of ended up slipping up about Finn and well,” She can feel the stare Octavia was boring into her there and then and her throat seemed to bob at the last admission. “I told her everything.”

Her legs quickly shifted off Clarke’s lap and instead of hoping for a calm reaction, Clarke started to hope that she wasn’t going to get mauled by her instead.

“Did I hear that last part right?” Her eyes bored into Clarke’s in awe, “ _You spoke to her about Finn_?”

“Yes.”

Octavia just stares at her for a while, Clarke doesn’t know why but it was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. Eventually, she finally gives up and sighs. “What the actual fuck?” Clarke winces and draws her eyes towards the empty drawer to her right. “Isn’t Finn one of the people you absolutely, under _any_ circumstances do not talk about? I quote ‘A big no-no.’”

“He still is.” Her breath hitches in her throat, and for a fleeting second she considers walking straight out of the door. “I just-” There was no other way to say it. No other way to explain to Octavia that Lexa made her look forward to the start of every shift, that Lexa could make her whole day more interesting by the second and she could never really admit that no one had ever listened to Clarke in the endearing way that Lexa had without sounding like she was madly and deeply _in like_ with her.

She wasn’t. She and Lexa just had a certain…connection, and that made sharing things all the more easier. At least, for Clarke. “I felt like she would understand and honestly? She did.” She smiled despite of herself, “When I started, I couldn’t stop.”

“Jesus fuck.” Octavia shakes her head in disbelief, “Honestly, this has gone way past the point of teasing. You two need to shack up, _now_.”

“Shut up.”

“No, No.” Her eyebrow raises in severity, “I mean it.” She stares Clarke down and licks her lips cautiously. “You like her. I know you do.”

Clarke waves a hand in dismissal, “I don’t.” She starts speaking again before Octavia can argue with her, “Even if I did, and I’m saying _if_ , it wouldn’t even matter because I don’t know if she even likes girls and I’m also definitely not ready for anything with anyone, Okay? So enough.”

“For fucks sake, listen to me you little overused cliché.” She smirks, “Lexa must _at least_ be bi.”

Clarke laughs at Octavia heartily shaking her head as she did so. “Of course, I almost forgot your gay-dar is ‘on point’. Never wrong are you?”

“It _is_ on point.” She insists as she flicks her hair backwards dramatically, “She likes girls, she likes _you_ \- you two are probably going to fall in love and by the time you actually realise it, I’ll be sixty two living with fifty cats and my own personal sex dummy.”

“Come on O, I haven’t even known her for that long and you’re acting as if we’re meant to be.” She scoffs, “Really, what type of rom coms are you watching?” Whatever else came out of Octavia’s mouth, she was hoping would be the last on this ‘Lexa’ topic, it was beginning to get on her nerves and the last thing she wanted was to be put in a bad mood.

“Too many.”

“I noticed.”

Octavia shrugs and sits next to Clarke and turns her head towards her expectantly, eyes wide and most certainly pleading.

_What now?_

“Wouldn’t you just absolutely love to spend some time with your dearest best friend and watch _Grey’s_ until you depart and leave her all alone to go to work?” Octavia bats her eyelashes at Clarke, a mischievous little twist on her face and Clarke already knows there was no way Octavia was going to let her say no.

“ _Fine_.”

“We both know you hate me right now, don’t we?”

“That’s true.”

“We also both know you love me.”

Clarke looks at Octavia and feels a burst of affection shoot through her.

“That’s also true.”

**

She was smiling.

Lexa. _Smiling_.

And she couldn’t goddamn stop.

Even as she vigorously scrubbed the gunk off of the plates and thought about all the studying she had no time to do – she smiled, she fucking grinned _all_ the way through it.

And for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

A part of her thinks that today, she doesn’t really care to know why.

Her head can go to a million different places at once but today she just wants to let it be, not worry and bask in the warm embrace of an uplifting mood. Everything about herself usually told her that she deserved nothing, all she truly deserved was to be punished for even thinking about being impulsive – but today?

Today she was telling her mind to sincerely go fuck itself.

Shortly after she hears the bell located on the top of the door ring, and as her head swiftly moves up to see who it was she was quite pleased.

“Any smart asses come in here today?” It’s Clarke. Clarke who somehow found a way into Lexa’s space in a matter of days. She wants to hide the fact that she’s happy to see her but she can’t, in fact she _shouldn’t_ \- so she chooses to give her a small smile.

“Just one.” Lexa’s eyebrow raises and her smile soon turns into a smirk as she sees Clarke roll her eyes and give her the finger.

They don’t say much to each other after that, and Lexa’s glad for it. She likes that there’s a comfortable silence that empties itself into the room so vividly and so calmly that it gives Lexa a strange feeling of fulfilment, but she doesn’t want to question it – she doesn’t even want to think.

Clarke is her friend.

The admission stirs something strange in Lexa’s stomach and there she is, fucking _smiling_ again.

Except, maybe she shouldn’t really be smiling in the first place. Nothing was going the way it should have been, absolutely nothing. She was slacking – with everyone and everything, she could feel it in the deepest part of herself and it sends a sliver of guilt all around her body before she remembers Anya and their gruellingly personal fight.

_No. I’m not going to think about that._

But she is _. Of course_ she is.

Her jaw clenches at the flash of emotions that she feels erupting inside her.

Because it’s not the fight that she wants to eradicate from her mind; fights happen – they happen every day for her don’t they? Lexa knows that she is constantly fighting, she never stops, never stops to even take a breath because every single day is like an endless fight for her.

It’s the fight to forget.

Except there’s only one thing she can never forget, and that thing has a name.

 _Such a beautiful name,_ she thinks and she hisses at the thought itself because that beauty no longer existed, only the pain of losing it remained and it was just as sour as she thought it would be.

Only, far worse.

This is what she wishes to forget, she wishes to forget the need for her name to pop up in every corner of her mind, to forget that instead of caring about her fight with Anya – she cares only about who it was about. It’s always her, in every sense of the way she is never living and never dying.

Maybe, she would never be able to fully escape that but once in a while it would be nice to try.

Except, she spent the whole work day doing exactly what she said she wouldn’t, because once the thought of her had some kind of semblance in her mind there was no way that it would get out. Lexa knows this, but she still finds ways to believe that maybe one day this will stop, that she’ll return to being a functional human being and not this waste of space she has inevitably become.

Days like this, she thinks otherwise.

“Psst.” She doesn’t need to think twice about who it is, and expectantly her head turns to Clarke’s. “Guy on your right, see him?”

Questionably, Lexa looks to her right to see a guy sipping his coffee ever so carefully but never taking his eyes off of her. She looks back at Clarke and raises her eyebrow, “What about him?”

“He’s staring at you like he wants to eat you out.” She laments her words very carefully and it makes the curve of Lexa’s lips rise upwards.

“Really now?” She smirks and before she can think twice about it another whole sentence comes blundering out of her mouth. “And how would you know what wanting to eat someone out looks like?”

Clarke’s eyebrows are the ones that are raised now, and she looks at Lexa with the most amused face she has ever seen. “Did you really just ask me that question?”

All she can do is roll her eyes and walk away, but never – not _ever_ without a smile on her face.

So that, is really how she manages to get through her day at work without mulling herself over with the never ending burdens, and each time her head threatened to start over Clarke would look at her; make some funny face concerning the customer ahead of her and before Lexa could even control the involuntary movement, she’d end up in a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Or maybe, stifled giggles.

Other times, Clarke would come up to her with either a dirty plate or cup in her hand and entertain her with some witty comment.

“Literally minutes ago this excruciatingly attractive dude asked me out on a date.” She sighs heavily and looks back up at Lexa, “But I said no.”

“Why’s that then?”

She shrugs and before leaving swiftly after, utters two words which set Lexa into another fit of giggles; “Trump supporter.”

It seemed Lexa could not be the broody person she was somewhat destined to be come around Clarke, and as much as she knew that the prospect of that happening _now_ should have scared her, for some reason it didn’t.

_Why should it?_

And maybe, out of all the questions she should have been asking today – that one was the only one that should have truly mattered.

**

“I am so fucking glad that this day is over.” Tris; one of the more recent additions to the staff, was packing away her uniform and putting on some pretty sexy attire instead of it. “I don’t know what it is about this place, but it attracts a lot of creeps and honestly?” She puts her hand on the top of Clarke’s shoulder to keep herself up whilst she put her heels on, “I’ve had enough of that to last me a life time.”

Clarke just chuckles along and can’t help but agree with her; but another part of her saw _Grounders_ as her own, especially since the guy who owned the place was pretty much M.I.A most of the time. She loved this place, she loved the work and she loved everything about it – _including_ the creeps she got to tell off almost every day.

“Anyway.” She grabs her bags along with her and leans against the counter. “I’ve got a hot blind date with some guy called Jackson and I decided that I’d try to be on time, for once. So, is it alright if you and Lexa close up today? I kind of need to rush.”

Clarke waves her along, “Go. We’ve got this.”

“You’re a life saver.” She gives Clarke a chaste kiss on the cheek and starts walking towards the door before hastily turning back around again. “Hey is it okay if I close after me? I don’t trust this place being open at night.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have your own keys right?”

“ _Yes_ , Tris.” Clarke reassures her once again, “You better hurry up or you’re going to miss out on the possibility of really hot sex with a random stranger.”

“True.” She walks away and locks the door behind her.

Whilst Clarke is stashing everything away she sends a text to Octavia assuring her that she’ll probably be home in half an hour, and then sent another message to Raven which embodied a ton of question marks and continuous scolding words which should have screamed ‘you should be home right now, where the hell are you?’

Oh my god.

_Was she the mom friend?_

“Hey.” Lexa’s voice snaps her out of her horrifying realisation and she’s never been happier to be interrupted in her life. “I think we’re pretty much done here.”

Clarke looks around and exhales proudly. “I think so too.”

“Thanks for not being your usual insufferable self today, Clarke.” Lexa smirks as she heads towards the door and before Clarke has time to rebuff Lexa’s statement with an undeniably witty one – she’s left answering a question instead.

“Door’s locked.” Lexa looked back at her, “Have you got the keys?”

Clarke nods, “Yeah sorry, forgot.” She rummages through the bag on her hip for a solid minute until she realises (along with a _deep_ pang in her stomach) that she was not feeling any metallic object.

To her relief however, she finally managed to find her set of keys. “Thought I forgot the keys at home for a second.” She wordlessly looks for the right key as she walks towards the door.

Except.

She could not find the key.

“What?”

She looks at each key carefully, even tries to stuff some of them in the key hole desperately but it was obviously no use.

Clarke did not have the key.

Lexa did not have the key.

No one else was currently in the building.

_And no one, absolutely no one had the fucking key._

She turns around to face Lexa and winces, “So, I’ve got some bad news.”

“Please, _no_.”

“Sorry, really – I am, but.” Clarke itches the back of her neck, “ _Yes_.”

Clarke awaits for Lexa’s cold glare and a bunch of explicit words stating her worries about her homework and her studies. She awaits Lexa’s disapproving look as she tries to make up for it and she awaits Lexa completely losing interest in her as a person and she lets her heart dip to the lowest part of her stomach.

Except.

All Lexa does is sigh and give Clarke an expectant look.

“I guess we’re stuck here.”

**

Lexa knows that she should be mad. She knows that she should probably get mad at Clarke because how could someone make such a foolish mistake? She had work to do. Tons of it, in fact. Except instead she was going to be spending her night with someone she had only gotten to know over the last couple of days.

She should have been furious.

And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to feel that.

Not one bit.

“So what are we going to do?”

It takes Clarke an alarmingly short time to come up with an idea, and even less so to start implementing her idea. She rushed towards the storage room and comes out with two big bags of coffee beans. “We’re going to do what we do best.”

Lexa wasn’t sure if she should frown or groan inwardly. “That being?”

“Make coffee.” Clarke places the coffee beans on the counter and mashes her hands together. “Duh.”

She also isn’t sure if she should laugh at Clarke or scold herself for wanting to go ahead it with anyway.

So that’s exactly what she does. She lets the fuck go, and for good reason too. What else would she do closed up in a coffee shop with one of the most (insane?) unpredictable girls she had ever met in her life. Cry about it? Shout at her for it?

For some reason, she just couldn’t.

The next hour encompassed a hilarious effort in finding ridiculous orders to try out, including the classic caramel drizzle that they had their first discrepancy upon. The amount of times they both screwed up each order (but drank the coffee anyway) was far more than the amount of times they actually managed to make a successful cup of coffee.

“This is stupid.” She drinks her fifth cup of coffee and stares at Lexa with wide eyes. “Venti Soy Quadruple Shot Latte with No Foam? How do I even pronounce that?”

Lexa shrugs and finishes her own cup of coffee (or latte? She still didn’t know the difference), “You said you wanted to try it out.”

“Yeah but I don’t get how people actually come up with these orders.” She itches her head frantically, “What’s the point of removing the foam? That’s the best part!”

Lexa’s eyes are so close to rolling to the back of her head that she has to close them to stop them from doing so. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should find out.” Clarke puts the mug back in the sink and stretches, “Maybe it’s a psychological defect built within people with superiority complexes.”

She nods in agreement, even though she could not currently understand a single word of what Clarke was saying.

“You know what though?” Clarke sits back down next to Lexa and rests her head on the counter, “I think we have a really important job here. I mean, who’s going to make you absolutely fantastic coffee at 7 o’clock in the morning?” Her head bobs up again and she looks at Lexa with those same old wide eyes, “We literally give people coffee so that they can go on with their lives, conquer their dreams, look up at their computer screen at work and not want to kill themselves as much as they did five minutes ago. Isn’t that amazing?”

Lexa scoffs and looks at Clarke questionably, “You know what I think?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“That you’ve had enough coffee to last you a lifetime.” She smirks as she watches the look of sheer curiosity drown into one hell of a glare.

Deciding that they both wouldn’t like to wake up to a big mess in the morning, Lexa gets up and washes both of the remaining cups, accepting that there was no way she was going to manage to fall asleep within the next two hours. Lexa sighs as she looks at her phone and realises she’s only half way through the night, guiltily wishing that she was back at campus with her face nose deep in some textbook instead of the awkward tension that was building up between the both of them.

She likes Clarke, she really does – but she barely knows this girl. Spending a whole night with her? Other than the deafening silence which was starting to kill and kill, she didn’t know how she was to fall asleep when the girl she was trapped with was so undeniably _terrifying_.

Because truth be told, every part of Clarke scared her. Every look, every statement, _everything_ made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out to see the light of day. Maybe, what scared her even more was the fact that absolutely no one had that effect on her; she would never let them.

Lexa was the strong, stoic person she always knew she would grow up to be. She was cautious with her family, even more cautious with her friends – but never this terrifying mess of a human being. Did she ever realise? Did she ever question when she started slipping into despair?

She doesn’t really think she did until now.

_Vulnerability._

That’s what she felt when she was around Clarke. Every sense of her slipped away into oblivion the second she realised Clarke was not who she thought she was, the gulp in her throat that she couldn’t ever hold down with every sense of the way she could calm her down in seconds.

She didn’t know this girl but it was starting to feel like this girl knew her.

“What do you think about?” Lexa’s thoughts are scrambled away the instant she hears Clarke’s voice, softer than ever this time. “What do you think about when you go completely silent?”

Lexa turns around to face Clarke and she eyes her cautiously, ignoring the fact that her heart is racing at a speed that shouldn’t be humanly possible.

“Your eyes do this thing where they just seem lost to the world.” She looks at Lexa long and hard, _stares_ at her even and it feels like forever until she continues her sentence. “Where do you go?”

She realises that she hates this. She hates the way Clarke bores into her soul, as if she’s an open book for her to read. She hates the way her eyebrow raises as she _waits_ in anticipation, as if the answer is _hers._ Why does she care? Why does anyone care?

The laugh that comes out of her mouth in response is laced with bitter undertones and unsaid words, it is not in any sense of the way sincere. “It’s almost midnight Clarke, I’m stuck here for the whole night when I could be studying for all the things that actually hold importance in my life and you think that there’s some deep meaning behind the way I say nothing?” She shakes her head and sits down, “Don’t be so foolish.”

She feels guilty the minute she says this, she winces at the expectation of all their progress to fall through to the wind. She waits for Clarke’s harsh response but all she gets in return is the slight tilt of her head and wondering eyes that only seem to grow bigger.

“You’re right.” Clarke lets out a short lived laugh, directed more at herself rather than anyone else. “I do tend to be a little bit too intrusive sometimes. I try my best not to be but sometimes I just get sucked into observing someone’s every move, and then I can’t stop.” Lexa does her best to look away from Clarke but her façade was faltering, breaking into pieces until there would be nothing left but the desolate truth. “I’ve been told I have a knack for it, by quite a few people actually. _You_ being one of them.”

“Oh really?”

Clarke nods, “Yeah.” She checks her phone after that and looks back up at Lexa, subsequently shoving her phone in her face. “It’s midnight.”

“I can see that.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I mean, make a wish.”

Lexa scoffs, “You know that’s not how it works right?”

Clarke shrugs and closes her eyes for a brief moment, “So? Can’t we just pretend?”

And she does.

She pretends, just for a second – that the girl she is stuck in a room with doesn’t make her want to run in the opposite direction. She pretends that she believes there’s still hope for her, that the thoughts she thinks and the feelings she feels are temporary; _this isn’t what the rest of my life will be like. I will grow, **I will grow**_.

Moments pass and she can breathe again. She’s calm.

She also decides, that this time – she’ll make the effort. “You do know that us being locked in here is indirectly your doing, yes?”

“Oh come on.” Clarke smirks, “I know it’s a big inconvenience for you, but I can see through your little act.”

“What act?”

Clarke grabs the muffin that was lodged in one of the shelves behind her and opens up the wrapper. “The one you pull when you act like my presence isn’t the most entertaining one you’ve had in a while.” Bits of muffin crumbs line her lips as she feigns a pout. “Come on. I think we reached a stage where you can actually admit that you do like me.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Well.” Her hand runs through her hair, effortlessly. “That’s not exactly true.”

She was growing tired of their inconsistent conversation, she didn’t have enough energy in her to rebuff Clarke’s comments. At least not today. “Do you ever stop and realise that you talk way more than you should?”

“Yes.” The admission is so swift, so nonchalant that it slightly alarms Lexa. “I’ve been told by many people before; it’s generally a coping mechanism. I run my mouth quicker when I’m around people who seem to treat conversation like a vice.”

Ouch.

“Am I being rude again?” Her question is honest, and somewhat apologetic. The last thing she wanted to be was rude, but being placed in unpredictable situations right now was something ultimately devastating for Lexa. Two years ago? _She would have thrived in it_. But her confidence has somewhat wavered, she’s become weak, bitter, she’s become everything she never wanted to be, and yet still every bone in her body made sure that she never showed that.

But here she was, showing just that.

Clarke’s face however, holds no contempt or anger like it would have a couple of days ago. Instead, she’s met with a comforting gaze, a soft glance – a fleeting thought. “Nah. I think it’s just you being Lexa.”

“Is that a thing now?”

She shrugged, “You made it a thing.”

Lexa smiles in dismissal and lets her eyes trail down to the floor.

“It’s true though.”

“What is?”

“That I’m a chatter box.” She reaffirms lightly, but her eyes aren’t quite looking into Lexa’s as they usually do (daringly, _ever_ so daringly) instead they drift off to the floor like Lexa’s and she feels a lump in her throat as she watched her cautiously. “My dad, he used to call me chatter Clarke.” She shakes her head in disbelief and laughed despite of herself, “Kind of lame, but it was an on-going joke between us.”

Lexa just knew. She _knew_ that this story didn’t have a happy end, somehow Clarke just wasn’t as skilled in hiding her emotions.

(Had she ever dwelled on the fact that, that might have been a good thing?)

“Chatter Clarke.” Lexa lets the phrase roll on her tongue purposefully and can’t help but bore her eyes into Clarke. “I like it.”

She nods in agreement, “I used to pretend to hate it but he’d always find a way of getting a laugh out of me.” Her mind is in a different place now, she can see it from the way her face falls in on itself in this horribly solemn way. It tugs at her heart and for one second Lexa almost wants to reach out to her, to console her – but what would she be consoling her for? She knew nothing.

“ _Always_.” She emphasised further, her fingers grasping onto the floor in search for some comfort. “Never a moment, _there was never one moment_ he couldn’t get just one smile out of my face. He was incredible, my Dad. I never stop remembering, never stop thinking about when he was here and when he was whole.”

And there it was.

“He died. I think you can put that much together.” She completed, “Three years ago, in the middle of January he was driving to work and he collided with another car in his way.” Lexa thought she heard an exasperated sigh come out of her mouth, and it struck another chord in the depths of her heart. “Black ice. That was the culprit. No drunk driver, no unfair incident that somehow made his death somewhat acceptable.” She held her breath at the last statement and her eyebrows dug down deeper, as if they were closing in on her. “The guy in the other car died too, it was instant.”

Lexa wished, she wished and _wished_ that she had something better to give to Clarke than a simple ‘I’m Sorry’. She wished, with all of the energy that she had left in her that she could have somehow saved Clarke the pain of losing someone, losing someone so _special_.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” Clarke’s words are harsh and they make Lexa shudder because she too, doesn’t understand how she could share something so special with her. She looks up at Lexa, and the only thing she can make out from them is that she is _afraid._

In attempts to make her feel better, Lexa scoots closer to Clarke and looks at her carefully; offering some kind of solace in her meaningless words. “I don’t know either, but you can tell me.” She looks at her hands absent mindedly, “If you’d like to, of course.”

“No.” Clarke’s eyes are boring into her now, and she _knows_ because she can feel the hot flush of adrenaline fire up around her neck. “You don’t get it.” She shakes her head and rubs her face in her hands, breathing in. “I don’t talk to anyone about Finn, sometimes not even to Raven or Octavia.” Her face has lost any kind of fear and is now replaced with sheer confusion. “But my dad? My dad is off every limit there is, he’s not up for conversation, with _anyone_.”

“Yet here I am with you, talking about him just like that.” She laughed, “I barely know you, in fact I’m quite sure I know close to nothing about you but I’m still here talking to you as if I’ve known you for ages.” Her eyes trail back to the floor and some kind of disheartening smile is strapped onto her face, “With you? It’s like he’s here again. Like I have to remember.”

It takes her aback, such an admission – such a _bold_ admission. She wants to run away again, everything in her mind says that this conversation should end but she feels herself do the opposite, she scoots closer; right opposite her and she thinks, they’ve never been so close before.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Clarke takes Lexa’s hand and squeezes it briefly before letting go just as quickly as she picked it up. “It’s not a bad thing.”

What?

“It’s horrible, Clarke.” She can’t stop the outburst of words that so effortlessly slip out of her mouth. “That someone can make you feel those things and then leave just like that. It scars you, leaves you breathless, it never leaves you. _Never_.” She doesn’t shy away from Clarke as she has lost any form of hesitation – she is fire and ice and every part of her body flourishes with emotion. “And I’m here, making you feel all of this again, just when you were fine, I come in and make you feel it all over again. It’s _horrible_.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in alarm, and she knows – she just _knows_ she’s said too much.

“I stopped trying to escape the pain, Lexa.” She says it slowly and carefully, as if she was speaking _to_ her rather than about her. “Pain is inevitable, it is the reason we can wake up in the morning and know what is good in our lives, and it is reason we are driven to treasure it.”

“He’s _gone_.”

Those two words. They resonate with Lexa and she can feel the tears spring up to her eyes, she blinks them away before Clarke can see – because she can never see her, not the _real_ her. Not yet. Perhaps, not ever.

“I’ll never get him back. The pain will never go away, it will be there as a reminder that I loved him. That he was loved and cared about by so many, because grief is the one thing I have to offer him in thanks.” She smiles at Lexa encouragingly, “It sounds stupid, but it’s what makes us human, because think about it Lexa; who would we be? Who would we be if we didn’t **feel**?”

She believes her, but she doesn’t want to. The bitterness is there, it has become a part of her and maybe it would never leave – never subside into some dull form of knowing. “I don’t know.” She admits, “But it wouldn’t it be nice? Escaping the pain, leaving it all behind. Wouldn’t it be nice to try?”

“Yes.” Clarke agrees and her eyes do nothing to betray her next sentence. “But maybe, I’ve been trying to for too long.”

Lexa closes her eyes, and lets out a shaky breath. She never knew she could feel so much at once; anger, hurt, frustration, bitterness, compassion and hope? _Hope_? What did she have to hope for? There was absolutely no one left in her life, no one who could make her appreciate the world again.

“How do you do it?” Lexa feels like her voice is a decibel away from crying out, she can see it reflected in Clarke’s sunken eyes as they gaze at her callously. “Act like everything’s okay? Be strong, laugh at the jokes, make the jokes – get high grades and let yourself submerge into everyone’s care. How do you do it without breaking?”

Clarke laughs at her response, looks at her unbelievably. “You think I don’t break?” She sighs and suck her bottom lip forcefully in destress. “I break every day Lexa, when I wake up in the morning and realise I’ve lost something that never can come back. I break when I see my mother cry and watch as she doesn’t allow herself to ever mention his name. I break when I see my best friends in the whole world fight about things they don’t understand themselves.” Her breathing was becoming ever so erratic, so much so that Lexa’s breathing was beginning to mirror hers. “I break when I see myself and realise I’m nothing I want to be.”

“But do you know what I do?”

Lexa shakes her head, because she aches to know.

“I realise that the people in my life, they’re important and they break too.” Clarke traces a hand over the floor beneath her and sighs again. “I let myself feel, and every time I think that I should let it engulf me - I remember that there are people who need me, who need me to keep going; my mum, Raven and Octavia, _all_ my friends. I can’t stop living because I’m scared of the world and what it has in store for me.”

Every time Clarke speaks, Lexa thinks and she wants to understand Clarke. She aches to understand how someone can harbour so much pain and allow herself to feel it. She wonders, how someone can be so strong and honest.

 _Who are you?_ That’s what she wants to ask her there and then. _Who the fuck are you?_

“I’ll tell you one thing though.” Her eyebrow raises at this, and she lifts her chin up to face Lexa’s. “Death is necessary, and natural but I don’t know if there is _anything_ natural about his death.”

Lexa gasps, she outwardly gasps. She’s never heard it spelled out in such intricate ways, she’s never found a way to explain that she knows all of this, that she understands what happened and that she needed to let go. But here it was.

What was natural in the way her body was splayed out across the floor as if she was never alive in the first place? In the way she was alone when she died, her fleeting life flashing before her eyes before she could even possibly know that Lexa was running, _running_ to save her. No. There was no natural order in the way they took her purse, the rest of her money – any form of her dignity scattered and meaningless. What could possibly be natural about the way her hands closed tight in action, fighting ( _always fighting_ ) to stay alive?

 _Nothing_. There was her answer.

**_Absolutely nothing._ **

“You look like you need a hug.” Clarke distracted her from her thoughts, and for the first time she felt grateful. She put it into words. She understood, without saying anything she _understood_.

“Why’s that?”

“You look sad.”

Lexa rolled her eyes in attempt to escape from the mood she was dragged into, after all Clarke knew too much already. “I’m not unfamiliar to the pain of loss.”

Clarke nods respectfully, seemingly accepting that was all she was going to get out of Lexa, at least for now.

“Thank you.” Lexa means it, with every fibre of her being she means it more than she has meant anything in the last year. “You have no idea-” Her breaths would become shaky if she let herself feel everything again. “ _No_ idea how much I needed to hear some of the things you said.” She closes her eyes, begging herself not to cry. “I’m no use anymore, you know? Damaged goods.”

“No Lexa.” Clarke puts her hand on Lexa’s and keeps it there, “You’re strong.”

She scoffs, “You don’t know anything about me.” The words hiss out of her mouth, and she hates that they come out with such hostility. “I’m far more broken than you can ever imagine.” Her expressions soften as she says that, and she hopes that it can serve as some kind of apology for being such a mess.

“Oh _Lexa_.” Clarke’s fingers raise Lexa’s chin to face her eyes, eyebrows raised and a sense of worry covered all over her face. “Didn’t you know? The ones most broken are the strongest.”

**

Her eyes are dropping by the second, feeling the weight of gravity taking over herself – letting herself nod off into the peaceful sleep she so desperately desired.

Except, she knew she couldn’t.

It was three o’clock in the morning and they had somehow managed to convince themselves that staying up for the rest of the night was a good idea, seeing as they needed to ‘prevent the chance of a robbery’.

This, of course was an obvious excuse to avoid awkwardly sleeping on the cold hard floor – especially after having such an emotional talk.

Clarke still had to process that.

She didn’t know what there was to process, maybe all she really knew was that what she shared with Lexa made Lexa feel, _special_.

There were parts of Lexa that Clarke would never uncover, and maybe he didn’t really care about that. She wanted to respect her, she wanted to respect every single part of Lexa and most of all, _god most of all_ her mind. That beautiful mind of hers was nothing if not to be respected.

She shouldn’t be thinking these things. She knows she shouldn’t. But she can’t really figure out why.

“How much longer do we need to stay awake for?” Lexa groaned as she left her mug on the floor next to her, unfinished. “I don’t think I can drink any more coffee.”

“Me too.” Clarke’s voice betrays the exhaustion and she sighs, “I might end up feeling sick if I drink anymore.”

“Can’t we just sleep?”

“No.” Clarke affirms, closing her eyes briefly before opening them to feel the world sway into its own orbit of celestial pleasure. That was what sleep was like to Clarke at this very moment; a haven, sweet and temporary but never fleeting, always there to save her from herself.

“ _Yes_.” She changes her mind and lets her head lull to the side, “Let’s just sleep.”

“There’s nowhere to sleep.” Lexa stated in a slight frustration.

But Clarke has no effort to respond, her eyes are tight shut and at this very moment; she couldn’t really care less where she would sleep.

Which is probably why, she felt extremely disorientated when she woke up with her head deeply seated onto Lexa’s shoulder, her mouth wet and her right cheek slimy.

“Clarke.”

Someone gently shook her face of off their shoulder and perhaps it hadn’t fully registered in her mind that the wet slimy feeling was in fact her own saliva, quite well into soaking Lexa’s uniform.

She feels a chuckle vibrate in her ear and sits up in shock, by instinct wiping the dampness on the side of her mouth and realising in full horror – exactly what she had done.

“Oh my god.” Clarke quickly covers her mouth with her hand and looks up at Lexa, deeply embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, honestly I don’t usually do that I think I drank too much coffee and I probably didn’t even realise the time too-”

Lexa just smirks and shakes her head, beckoning her to stop. “Its fine, you don’t need to make excuses. My shoulder is probably the best place to excessively drool on.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Clarke can still feel the heat burning her cheeks and it makes it very hard to avoid Lexa’s smug gaze.

Lexa laughed, “Maybe not – but I could possible call in sick to work and use you traumatising me for the rest of eternity as an excuse.”

“Okay.” Clarke rolled her eyes and pushed herself up, “Don’t push it.”

Lexa gets up next to her and brushes the dust off of her uniform, “You know, you could always just thank your colleague for letting you stay there in the same place.”

“Colleague?” Clarke squints at Lexa and pouts, “Don’t you think by now I maybe deserve the title ‘Friend’? I mean, we kind of always end up having deep conversations you and me.”

She licks her lips and thinks for a second, but nods with the slight glimmer of a smirk. “Okay, _Friend_.”

Clarke spots one of the staff members opening up the coffee shop for the side of her eyes and she looks back at Lexa feigning petulancy. “Yeah.”

She walks past Lexa and grabs her bag from the door, “See you around, _Friend_.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Octavia are circling into despair, Wells comes back to give Clarke a major psych analysis -and Lexa and Anya try to find a way to understand each other.

Today was not going to be an easy day.

She knew it, the alarm clock blaring to her right bloody knew it and the pulsing pain trailing down her leg was going to make it harder for her to avoid that fact.

Perhaps the fact that she knows she'll have to out-live this day with the addition of a twelve hour shift makes the whole idea all the more unbearable. Still, she closes her eyes and tries to shake off all the frustration that begins to make its way inside her like clockwork.

The only person she could even dream of telling was off somewhere, furious with her and ultimately seemed to want nothing to do with her. She hates the way it draws a different type of pain in her, a sullen drop in her chest that instantly makes her day progress from bad to worse.

It's not her fault that she cares, she knows she can't help it but somehow she feels like this could be her doing. Maybe Octavia was right about her, maybe it really does get tiring being around someone who only knows how to pull away.

And yet, she knows that she can't think about this. Not now, not when the very real pain started growing into more than just a nuisance. She trails off to the kitchen and finds the Advil in one of their cabinets, pops one in her mouth and hopes that it would somehow tame the sharp sting growing and growing with every step she took.

She spots the little pink sticky note and notes Clarke's characteristic dishevelled handwriting;

_'Went out for brunch with Wells, he's back in town for a couple of days. Made you something to eat just in case you get hungry at work. Please take care –Clarke x'_

The corners of her lips turn upwards and she feels gratitude wash over her. If there was one thing that Raven knew how to do, it was most definitely; appreciate the small things. For a second, she wishes she could conjure some kind of way to explain exactly what was going on in her mind, except that would mean coming to terms with it herself – and there was no way she would be willingly do that.

Her brief bus ride to Grounders only worsens her mood and by the time she's behind the counter serving the needs of some needy ass people, she realises people are staring.

Namely, one of them being Lexa.

She learns to ignore it, albeit being slightly weirded out by that haunting stare. (Maybe Clarke was right about her?)

The hours pass by and it does little to distract her from the throbbing in her leg, and even though she catches herself clutching it a couple of times she tries to ignore it either way. Her mind is riddled with thoughts and questions that cease to ever stop and it makes her eyes all the more heavily lidded.

She can feel the heat creeping upon her like a deathly plague and she hastily wipes away the beads of sweat that begin to form at the tip of her hairline. Grinding her teeth does close to nothing to take her mind away from everything it seems so determined to stay focused on, and she grows tired of the struggle altogether.

Deciding she needed a break, she walks past Tris and tells her she's going out for some air. She can feel everyone's eyes on her and she closes her own to avoid the budding concern they probably all want to show and all she can feel in that moment is the animosity that she so desperately needs to reciprocate. Raven doesn't want their concern, and she certainly doesn't want their pity either.

It is in that moment that she's all the more grateful for Clarke's attempt at a salad. (She may have put in a bit too much vinegar for her liking but it was the only food she was getting, and she was going to take it.)

Footsteps find themselves near her and she reluctantly looks up to see Lexa looking at her with the slightest furrow in her brows. "Are you alright?"

Raven scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief, feeling the spark of frustration fire through her in one simple blow. She stretches her hands in display of this vexatious anger and looks up at her, "Oh I see, so when I look like utter shit you decide to exchange the semblance of a sentence with me?"

Lexa does nothing but keep the same expression on her face, followed by a shrug. "Pretty much."

She looks at her straight in the eye and feels a chuckle escape her mouth. "I guess I can expect nothing but the truth from you, right Woods?" She sighs, more to herself than anyone else and breaths in again. "I think I need someone like that right now."

She'd like to know her reaction, so she looks back up at her and is almost in awe at the small non comital smile she receives from her. Raven all but watches as she walks back into the building and decides she could deal with the last couple of hours left of her shift.

And somehow, even though she knows that all she wants is for this ghastly day to be over – she finds herself leaning against the counter next to Lexa, with the smallest hint of a smirk starting to show.

"Yes?"

"I'm expecting you to say no, since you're all but a hint shy of a mystery to me – but I'll ask anyways. Do you, your highness wish to accompany me whilst I make it incredibly hard for my liver to keep functioning? I know a pretty good bar five minutes away from here." She finds herself wanting Lexa to say yes more than she ever would have expected.

Lexa sighs, "It's almost ten o'clock in the evening Raven."

"Exactly!" She raises an eyebrow suggestively at her, "That's the prime time to hit the bar."

Still, she is met with a very doubtful look across her and it doesn't seem to want to budge. "Okay." Raven grunts, "One drink, and if you realise my company is just as horrible as you probably already think it is, you can drive me home and never speak to me again. Until our next shift, at least."

She knows, that she's won her over when Lexa rolls her eyes.

"Fine." She takes off her apron and folds it neatly into her bag. "One drink."

Raven pats her on the back and skips off towards the door, "You're going to have to drive, by the way. It's a five minute drive, not a five minute walk."

She can hear the remnants of a grunt as she walks out of the door and she smiles at herself. Lexa was strange, and everything about her made her want to forget about herself for a couple of seconds and unravel the 'mystery' that Lexa seemed to indulge herself in.

It isn't long before they arrive at the bar, and she can tell Lexa is already regretting her decision to join her.

"Trust me." She comments as she watches Lexa's grimace take over her whole face, "Its way better than it looks, I promise." She clears her throat as she opens the door and embraces the warmer atmosphere, "Plus they don't water down the drinks here."

She wants to say that she could acknowledge some of the faces that glance up at her for a gracious second, but the truth is every time she entered the place, she'd never really exit it the same way. This is the bar she goes to when all else fails, and it's the bar she somehow finds herself always forgetting. As to why she's dragging Lexa with her today; she has no clue.

"Scotch on the rocks, please." She smiles at the bartender politely, looking away quickly because she doesn't find it within herself to know if her face is familiar or not.

"And for you?"

Raven watches Lexa intently, eager to hear her answer. "Coke, please."

"What?" Raven looks at her incredulously. "You're going to order a soda at a bar? Seriously?

Lexa gives her such a glare that it almost sets Raven back. Almost. "I don't drink."

"That's not what Clarke told me."

She catches Lexa rolling her eyes, and once again she knows that she's won her over. She gives the bartender an apologetic look and sighs, "I'll have a Gin and Tonic."

"Better." Raven comments, "I was about to lose all my faith in you Woods! Not a great feeling on the very first day we actually share more than five sentences with each other."

Lexa ignores the last comment and frowns at the bartender. "How do you get them to sell alcohol to you in here? You don't exactly look like you're shy of 18."

"I guess they don't really care." Raven shrugs and thanks the bartender for their drinks. She twirls the scotch in her mouth for a while before really contemplating that she was going to want more than one, _way_ more than one.

The pain in her leg hasn't even dared to subside, and in one quick moment she clutches her leg and closes her eyes abruptly. She's aware that Lexa is staring at her, she can feel it boring into her skull and it irks her that she knows she'll have to explain. With certain people, there was just no point hiding it.

Looking back up at Lexa with a sheepish smile earned her a raised eyebrow and she sighed as she heaved her perhaps overdue explanation. "A month before my 17th birthday I had the smartest idea to get into a car with this guy, who was quite obviously drunk out of his mind."

She finishes her scotch and orders another one, and in that moment she can't really care less about the look that Lexa was giving her. "I told him you know, I told him that I should probably drive and that it wasn't safe; not for me and not for him. Not for anyone really." Her grip on the newly refilled glass is tighter than ever, and she is immersed in the memories of that utterly dreadful night. "I can't really tell you why I got into that car with him, he was offering and well, I was just so eager to get home I couldn't care less. He was just a common face in the crowd, someone you exchange a couple of greetings with until you realise your best friend's in a bathroom puking her guts out."

"His driving was impeccably horrible and I just prayed that I'd get home sooner than later." She shakes her head, "He swerves, and before I could even register what was happening I remember this white hot pain rush through me, and screams. _Blood curdling screams_."

A shiver runs down her spine and she's eager to finish this whole conversation up, "Next thing I know, Clarke's mum is in the hospital telling me that I hit my back so hard on impact that I lost the use in one of my legs." Another gulp of scotch and she welcomes the burning sensation that flashes on through her throat. "I hated it. Every moment of it. I was determined enough to actually get a small percentage of my leg working again, but I've got to walk with a brace, and there are days it hurts just as much as it did the day I found out I'd never really be the same again."

She doesn't want to say more. She doesn't think that she can.

"I'm sorry."

Raven hated those words. Meaningless, she always thought. Except, the way Lexa spoke them said volumes about what she actually meant. There was no way to explain it other than the fact that Lexa was a deeply expressive person, and only ever in the moment that mattered.

"What happened to the other guy?" She clears her throat, "Did you ever see him again?"

She shook her head and pursed her lips. "No. He died. Instantly." A bitter laugh escapes her, "We crashed into a tree. A _fucking tree_." The rest of her scotch is gone in one swift swoop and she's prepared to ask for another, "I could never really be angry at anyone or anything. The guy who got me into this situation in the first place lost his life, and the only person I could ever be truly angry at was myself."

"His name was John." She swallowed what felt like bile coming up her throat and blinked rapidly. "Murphy. That's what his friends used to call him. I couldn't attend his funeral and honestly even if I could I don't know if I even would have gone."

"I appreciate you telling me Raven." Lexa gives her the most innocent of smiles and she feels at ease again. "You always have the support of your friends though, I'm sure. You seem like a closely knit group."

"That's the thing." She sighs, "I don't want to burden them every time I have a bad day. It worries them, and I just don't want the responsibility of calming them down. Sometimes I just want to keep it to myself, you know?" She rubs her hands against her eyes and puffs, "I must sound like a real fucking jerk, I know."

Lexa scoffs, "Trust me, I understand that feeling more than you think."

She nods in agreement, "We've all got our baggage, I guess."

Venting like this, to someone who was ultimately a stranger – felt good. Lexa was easy to talk to, she didn't have her unnecessary input, really she just listened, and it felt damn good for someone to listen for once. "I love Clarke. I really do. But there's this thing that Octavia and I have. I can't explain it without sounding like I'm in love with her." The words are flying out of her mouth, and she's possibly already too drunk to stop them. "I just can talk to her about anything, about everything. It's not that I just _can_ , it's that I _want_ to, you know?"

Lexa nods and frowns at herself for a second, but seems to shake it off. "Then why don't you now?"

"Because." She exhales roughly and downs the last bit of her drink, "I fucked up. We fought about something recently. Well, really _someone_." Knowing that she shouldn't have another drink didn't stop her from actually having another one. "Anya actually. It's kind of hard to explain but I just pull away too much, and it hurts her. I think that I keep hurting her and maybe she's done with all of it now. She's done with me."

Lexa shakes her head vigorously, "That's not how it works. When you love someone, platonic, romantic – _whatever_ it is. You're never really done with them, not unless you have closure." She tilts her head towards Raven and shakes her head again. "She's not done with you Raven, she just wants an explanation. And you owe it to her - you know you do."

"Yeah." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're right."

"What are you and Anya doing anyway?" Lexa puts down her drink and plays with the strange carvings on the table in front of her.

She shrugs. "I don't know. We both agreed it was casual. It's just sex, I guess."

"As long as you both know what you're doing."

Raven's eyes trail off somewhere at the back of the bar and she watches as one of the girls practically drools over Lexa. She's passing her all these seductive looks and all Raven can think about is how oblivious Lexa is to most of them.

"Psst." She drunkenly whispers into Lexa's ears, "Girl at the back of the bar, brunette, _gorgeous_ brown eyes and from the looks of it one hell of an ass has currently been staring at you for the last-"

"I know." Lexa cuts her off very quickly, almost too quickly. "I knew that a while ago, Raven."

She frowns at Lexa, quite frankly because if someone that _beautiful_ was looking at her right now – she'd forget Lexa existed altogether. "Yeah? So why aren't you doing anything about it?"

"I'm not interested."

Raven's head jerks back, and for a second she is reminded that she might have been making unfair assumptions. " _Oh_ , I get it." She chuckles, "You're more of a _Jared Leto_ type of girl."

"What?" Lexa folds her arms and gives her a stern look, "What the hell are you saying?"

She rolls her eyes at Lexa and sips the last of her whiskey, "I'm saying." She burps and excuses herself, "You like _dick_."

Half of the inhabitants of the bar are looking at them now, and Lexa shakes her head in disbelief. There's a hint of a smirk on Lexa's face and Raven cannot for the life of her, truly understand why she was choosing _now_ of all times to smirk. This damn girl was more confusing than she thought. "Raven." She clears her throat, "Not that it is any of your business, but I have never _ever_ in my life been attracted to a man. Or anyone with a dick for that matter, at least so far."

"So you're asexual?"

Lexa throws a hand over her face and rubs her eyes. "Jesus!" She tries to hide the budding smile on her face but Raven can see it anyways. "How drunk are you?" It's a rhetorical question, of course. "I'm telling you I'm _gay_ , Raven."

All of a sudden everything clicks in her mind. So she was right! Lexa is super gay, and besides being super gay she's a total IDIOT. "So why the _hell_ aren't you pursuing that girl? Do _not_ even try telling me she isn't your type because I'll have to reassess your ability to visualise the fucking obvious."

"She is beautiful." Lexa agrees, silently nods her head along to the song and breathes in. "I'm really just not interested in that kind of thing right now. Do you get that?"

Raven nods in understanding, even though she was still looking at Lexa like she was the worst lesbian she had ever witnessed in her whole entire existence. She watches as Lexa looks at the time on her phone and knows she needs to bring up something that would make her stay; at least for a little longer. "So, what were you and Clarke up to last week?"

"What are you insinuating, exactly?"

"Nothing actually, but jeez your mind took you there pretty quickly Woods." Raven smiles at herself for a while before continuing to gratify herself in the relentless teasing of Lexa. "She told me she got the two of you locked up at _Grounders_ last week, and I thought it would be a fun topic to bring up."

Lexa grunts, "I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were."

"Then how about we drop this topic and get you home?"

Raven squints at Lexa, because even in her drunken stupor she can tell. She _just knows_ it. There has to be reason behind her avoidant eyes and the grip that tightens and tightens on the bottom of her chair. It's like instinct, really. "Sure, _but_ only before you admit that you care about her."

She watches as Lexa inhales air from her nose, quite ferociously. "We've known each other for-"

"Yeah, yeah a month." She shrugs, "I don't care. I know _you_ care about her, and I need to know that you actually do because I don't want Clarke to get hurt, do you understand me?"

Lexa frowns at her and tenses her jaw, "Clarke and I are friends. That's _it_. I don't know if you have some kind of warped up image of friendship and maybe this goes hand in hand with the undeniable fact that you're drunk." She exhales, "We got off the wrong foot, but we're alright now. I'm not going to hurt her, because there's nothing to hurt her with – and there never will be."

Raven grins, "Thanks for proving me right." She pats a confused Lexa on the back and exits the bar, knowing that if there was one thing she wasn't going to be forgetting; it was this conversation.

The drive home is silent, but somehow it's a comfortable silence – and she was going to revel in it for the next ten minutes, at least.

"Thanks Lexa." She's sheepish in her admission; strip away all your individuality for a night and what are you left with? Vulnerability. "I needed someone to talk to tonight."

She's greeted with a soft smile back, "I know."

Raven climbs out of the car and struggles to find the correct key in her apartment, stumbling in as she finally found the right one.

The lights are on, and she shies away from it instantly.

"Where the _fuck_ were you Raven?" It's Clarke. She knows it, because when Clarke is angry there's a deep insistence in her voice, like a husky rumble, demanding – only because she cares. This is the brash anger Clarke saves for her loved ones, and she knows this because _she_ knows _her_ all too well. "It's one o'clock in the fucking morning and I was expecting you here at _ten_." She sighs, "Octavia's off somewhere with Lincoln and I'm here trying to patch up these stupid fucking fights you two keep having and I'm fed up! Don't you know how to answer your phone for Christ's sake?"

Raven looks at Clarke, right at her. She'd never shy away from Clarke, and really she's too drunk to fully accept the gravity of the situation. "I was out with Lexa. We went to a bar."

"With Lexa?" Clarke's demeanour changes for a second and her whole face takes a darker twist. "What the hell were you two doing at a bar?"

She tires of the incessant nagging and walks past Clarke, "Relax, I'm not trying to steal your girl. It was purely platonic."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Sure." She collapses on her own bed, (it was difficult – to say the least – to get used to the hard rebound of her own bed. She missed Octavia's bed, and most of all she missed _her_.)

Clarke just shakes her head, hugs Raven tight and whispers in her ear.

" _I'm worried about you_."

And in that very moment; the moment before total black out, Raven realises that there is nothing more in the world she'd like to tell Clarke – because truly, she wasn't the only one who was.

 **

"Head up, chin high my love." Octavia whispers silently into Clarke's ears, "A new day has arrived and there's no way you can miss out on it because Wells specifically told me you need to be awake by ten thirty."

She grunts; being awake was not something she wanted to be right now. "He better still be here by the time I get back."

"Where are you off to?" Clarke rubs her eyes and tries to wash away any semblance of sleepiness.

"Brunch." She watches as Octavia primps herself up in front of the mirror, "With Lincoln."

"Aha." Clarke nods to herself, "So _that's_ why you're staring at that mirror incessantly."

Octavia rolls her eyes at Clarke and purses her lips, "Oh _don't_ start."

Clarke smiles at her and hugs her from behind, resting her neck on her shoulder. "I'm just teasing." She pulls her tongue out and gives her a funny face, "You know that I'm happy for you, right?"

"Yes." She hugs Clarke briefly, "I'm happy for me too."

The smile she gives Clarke is somewhat pained, it doesn't light up her eyes and it certainly doesn't tell Clarke that she really means it; but she must remind herself yet again that she cannot let her mind take her there. It just wasn't her place.

"I'm leaving." She gives Clarke a chaste kiss on the cheek and puts her phone in her bag, "Please don't cook, and if you absolutely have to just let Wells do it. I like this kitchen and you simultaneously setting fire to it is not something I want to come home to."

"That was one fucking time, O!" She flips her off and grunts.

"BYE." Octavia shouts back at her and once the door is shut, Clarke is left on her own once again.

A part of her knows that Raven won't be in her room, but she checks none the less; and when she sees the bed empty in all it's dishevelled glory she is reminded of the discontent feeling of being utterly alone. She isn't used to this, she's used to being surrounded by Raven and Octavia – watching her every single move. She's used to them joking about, making fun of her; hell she even misses the times they piss her off to no end and don't even budge to give her some space.

For weeks now, the apartment has been empty. Cold and brash in it's solitude, with only Clarke there to try to put some kind of order to the mess they leave behind them. It stopped getting on her nerves, and started to really sink in that this wasn't getting any better; it was getting worse.

Octavia was off with Lincoln almost every single day, and Raven wouldn't even indulge her in her activities. Sometimes she'd come home drunk, other times with a neck laced with the marks Anya had left behind, and all she could do was watch their increasingly odd behaviour.

She was stuck in the middle, and only now was she realising that she might always have been.

Either way, she had to put it all behind her – at least for the next couple of hours. Wells was coming over, and he was the one friend she could count on to not leave her live in this kind of altered reality.

She got everything ready, made herself look semi presentable (considering the bags under her eyes were not leaving, she looked pretty good) and waited for his knock on the door. Clarke missed Wells, and she missed him with every fiber of her being. He was the family friend, her best friend and also the only sensible person in her group of friends.

Going from seeing him every day, to being limited to once a couple of months was not something Clarke was coping with very well; and even though their skype calls kept them somewhat in touch it didn't take an abundance of intelligence to know that it was in no way the same thing.

But that was life, and that was growing up for you. Things change, more often than not for the worse rather than the better and you need to know how to adapt; how to survive.

Their brief meeting yesterday wasn't enough to cover everything; he had told her all about his college life – the girl who he's not sure is flirting with him ('Of course she is Wells, don't be so dense.') and his struggle to escape his over bearing father.

"CLARKE!"

She looks at the door and realises she didn't hear the door being knocked on for over five minutes, and grimaces at her sheer insistence to get lost in her own thoughts.

Rushing to the door (in an awfully ungraceful manner) and seeing Wells' annoyed face brough about both a bout of joy and embarassment. "I thought I told Octavia to make sure you woke up."

He takes of his shoes and settles on her couch as he smirks at her very obvious dishevelled appearance. "She did." She sits down next to him and rests her legs on his lap, "I was getting caught up in my own thoughts and you know that thing I do when I-"

"Block out everything else?" He looks at her and shakes his head, "Yes I know."

She gives him a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Do you want something to eat?"

He pulls out two brown bags from his own bag and hands one to Clarke, "I got us take out." He laughs, "We both know you suck at cooking, sorry."

Clarke narrows her eyes down at him playfully and pouts, "I'm going to forget that you said that because you got me my favourite wrap." She contently bites into the chicken coleslow wrap and is reminded of how much she misses his unasked favours. "Son of a bitch."

He chuckles and bites into his own wrap. "You know you'd think after everything I do for them, Octavia and Raven would do something like this, but _no_ the only goddamn thing they bring home is tequila."

"What do you expect, Clarke?" He yawns, "We're talking about the people who drink alcohol like it's fucking water." He puts the wrap down in the bag and wipes his mouth, "Speaking of, what's up with those two?"

Oh god.

Well now she absolutely _has to_ talk about it.

"I don't _know_ , Wells." She truly doesn't. Or at least she thinks she doesn't. She'd prefer to keep on not knowing somehow, because the truth might be far too bizarre for her to take in.

He scoffs, "Oh come on, we've always known."

"That's unfair."

"No." He picks up the wrap again and takes a bite, "It's simply the truth. You just don't want to accept it because you feel like you're being disrespectful when you think about it."

"It _is_ disrespectful!" She takes the last bite of her wrap and sighs contently. "They're my best friends and I'm just there making assumptions that, for all I know are complete bullshit."

He rubs one of his eyes and clears his throat, "The only difference is that those assumptions _aren't_ complete bullshit." He finishes his wrap and licks the mayonnaise off of his fingers; "Have you got some juice?"

She nods and chuckles as she walks to the kitchen, "You still love drinking juice after anything you eat, don't you?"

"Duh." He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, "Old habits die hard."

"Clearly." She pours two glasses of juice and walks over to the couch once again. "Seeing as you still think that Raven and Octavia have been pining for each other since the day they met."

He gulps the juice faster than he could come up with a counter argument and it makes it hard for Clarke to stifle her laughter. "Every single one of our friends thinks so too."

"Yeah well they're dumb."

"No _you're_ dumb." He places the glass back down on the table in front of them and eyes her own carefully. "You're sure you want that?"

She rolls her eyes and hands him her own glass, "Take it."

He gratefully takes the glass from her hands and gulps it down in another couple of seconds. (Sixteen years of friendship and she still found his love of juice extremely strange.) "They'll figure it out Clarke, don't worry. They just need some time."

"I just don't understand." She bites her lip, "How can you _not_ know that you're in love with someone? Isn't it supposed to be obvious? I mean I'm pretty sure they'd know by now, they're not kids anymore."

He shrugs, "Who's to say they don't know? Haven't you ever heard of denial?"

"Fair enough but _still_ , it doesn't add up."

"How doesn't it add up Clarke?" His eyebrows are furrowed, and she's pretty sure he's about to try to make his point even more plausible. It was hard to argue with Wells, considering he was almost always right. (And sometimes pretty fucking annoying about it too.) "They're best friends, inseparable almost. Except now they're fighting more often and you can tell that it just gets worse every time. Haven't you ever wondered why? It's coming up to the surface; everything is."

"That's my point!" She can't help but exclaim at this moment in time, "They're _best friends_. It's supposed to be so much easier for them, why would they be scared?"

"Imagine you were in love with your best friend, how would you feel?"

Clarke sighs, because automatically she knows that he's won. "Whatever. Either way, I'm not going to interfere. It's their business."

"Indefinitely." He smirks, "You should focus on your own love life, don't you think?"

She abruptly puts her hand up and fiercely tenses her jaw. " _No_ , Wells."

"You knew this was coming."

"No I hoped you wouldn't stoop to that level." She folds her arms and does her best to look visibly pissed off. "Don't even bring up her name."

"Who?" He feigns confusion and pouts, " _Lexa_?"

"Shut up."

"Are you finally going to admit that you obviously like her?"

"No." She clears her throat, "Because there isn't anything like that to admit."

"Really?" His question is doubtful at most, and she winces at the expectation of his next few brash words. "Is that why she comes up in most of our skype conversations? Or any of our conversations whatsoever?"

Clarke rolls her eyes insistently and huffs indignantly, "You're a filthy liar, Wells."

"That, I am." He smirks and rubs one of his eyes after he yawns. "But, not about this – and you know it."

"Look." She sighs and begins to wish that the whole topic would never have existed, almost wishes that Lexa never existed – but she finds that that thought only makes her sad now. "I know _why_ everyone thinks there's something going on between us, we went from hating each other to somehow becoming friends. I guess some of you can't understand that two adults can do that now, but we both do and that's all there is to it. It's simply us enjoying each other's company."

He gives her a short laugh and shakes his head, "Clarke, I'm not asking you if there's anything going on between you and Lexa; I'm asking if _you_ like _her_." He gives her a knowing glass and raises his eyebrow, "And you're immensely avoiding the question."

"I'm not!" She retorts and frowns right back at his face, getting slightly frustrated.

"You are." He clears his throat, "It's _okay_ to like someone else, there's nothing degrading in it, it's totally normal."

" _Jesus_ , Wells." She rubs her head in her hands, "I barely know her, and this shouldn't be an actual conversation right now _. It shouldn't_."

"Why's that?"

Clarke doesn't have an answer to that, and the less of an answer she has the more of an answer it is for Wells.

"You don't have to know someone incredibly well to like them Clarke, _come on_ ," He gives her one of the softest looks she had seen from him in a while, and she's yet again left to wonder why this girl has proven to be such a catalytic corruption in her life. "I think a part of you just can't admit it right now, and I also think I know why."

"Do you now?" She deadpans.

He looks at her square in the eye and squints, "You're scared. Fear is the one thing that holds most of us back, and it's holding you back right now as we speak. You feel like anything after Finn is bound to fail, a relationship is out of bounds for you because what is love if one of you doesn't feel it anymore?" Clarke wishes that she could stop him speaking, she wishes she could shut his mouth and scream at him to stop. She doesn't want to hear these things when each word hits a note in a chord of endless tragedy. It hurts. No one wants to hurt. "But you're back here, feeling things that you didn't think you could feel again. It's different this time, it's new but it's also old. She makes you feel vulnerable, she makes you say things you don't talk about and it simply scares the fuck out of you and who wants to admit that they feel these things for someone who is in as much torment?"

_No one._

She rolls her eyes and pretends that his dramatic lecture did nothing to hit the deepest parts of her. A part of her worries about why she's pretending in the first place. " _Okay_ Wells. No need to go all 'psych major' on me."

He swats his hand in her direction and shrugs, and finally decides it best to drop the subject. She's more than happy about that, to say the least.

The rest of their afternoon is enjoyable, they spoke about things that made them nostalgic – all the Christmas's they spent together, and all the times their parents would argue about the silliest of things. She notices, of course how skilfully Wells evades even the mention of Clarke's dad. Sometimes, she wishes she could hear someone say it, just so she could know that his memory isn't dead.

_Jake._

She remembered when her mum would say it, not enough however – to drown out the re-emerging thought of how she will never say it again.

**

Octavia bustles through her apartment door quickly, hoping dearly that she got to see Wells in time.

And she definitely did.

She doesn't spare Wells even a second to breathe her name and engulfs him into such a large hug that it squeezes the breath out of his own very lung. She doesn't care, she misses him more than she misses home sometimes – he kind of was her home.

" _God_ I missed you."

"Wow." He coughs as she apprehensively lets him go and looks at Clarke sardonically and licks his lips. "Now that's a way to greet your long lost best friend who lives miles away."

Clarke rolls her eyes but winks at Octavia, "How was the date?"

 _It was great_ , that's what she wanted to say, she wanted to give her a meaningful smile and gush about the joys of Lincoln but the truth was, something felt wrong. "It was nice." She gives Clarke a pursed smile and sits down next to Wells.

"So." She clears her throat and wiggles her eyebrows, "Have you asked out that girl yet?"

He sighs and glares at Clarke. "Did you tell everyone?"

"No." Clarke, in turn glares at Octavia – probably for selling her out. "But really, did you ask her out?"

He rolls his eyes, "How about you ask Lexa out first, and _then_ maybe we can talk about me asking her out."

Octavia can't help but laugh at Wells and she smirks at Clarke suggestively, "So, Clarke have you finally admitted that you're obviously in love with Lexa Woods?"

Clarke all but rolls her eyes and gives Octavia a death glare for the second time that day. "I already got a lecture from Wells, O. The answer is and always will be no, because there is absolutely nothing to admit to."

"You're so full of shit."

"Excuse -"

Her words are brashly cut off as the door slams open, and a slightly dishevelled looking Raven walks in. Octavia instinctively looks away and swallows what seemed to be a lump in her throat. She doesn't what to look at her, she's scared to know what will happen if she does.

"Hey Ray." Wells soft voice directs itself towards her and she can't help but give Raven's expression a tiny glimpse.

She's smiling. The type of smile you see when you ask someone how their day was, when you ultimately know it was probably horrible. It was the type of smile that burned holes in Octavia's heart because she knew exactly what it meant, and it was hurting her. _She_ was hurting for her.

"Hey Wells." She drops her bags and swiftly avoid Octavia's glance as she goes to hug Wells. "How've you been dude? Did you ask that girl out?"

"Jesus, Clarke!" Wells head spins around and he grimaces. "Did you tell the whole fucking world?"

Clarke smirks again and shakes her head with a slight chuckle.

Octavia expects a silence to fall amongst them and she winces as she awaits the worst – but somehow the conversation keeps on going. Raven sits next to Clarke, and their conversations fly along as if nothing happened.

She wants to crack a joke. She wants to break the ice, but she can't forget why she's angry. She wished she knew exactly why she was so pitifully furious, but if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she sure as hell knew that she was.

"I'll never forget that time Octavia threw herself head first at that guy just cause he called Raven a nerd in ninth grade." Wells' voice brings her back to reality and she knows exactly what he's trying to do; and in that moment she was far too curious to even consider hating him for it.

"Yeah, me too."

Octavia registers the familiarity of the ever so coaxing voice and her eyes find its way to Raven's. There's a pause, and perhaps even a hitch of her breath as she says the next few couple of words. "To this day, it's probably the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me."

She says it loud enough for everyone to hear, but Octavia knows Raven too well. She knows her well enough to know that those words were meant for her, and that entirely; they meant something different altogether.

**

"An?"

"Yes?" Her voice is clipped short. They both know that things aren't okay.

"Can you come over? All this fighting…it's just pointless." It was taking a lot out of Lexa to even let those words escape her mouth, but she was being genuine and in the truth of it all that's what really mattered. At least, that's what really mattered to her.

"Alright, be there in five."

She doesn't bother cleaning up her room, or even making herself look semi presentable. She just wants to get the nagging feeling inside her head out, she wants it _gone_.

There's a subtle knock on the door and Lexa braces herself, because she doesn't know what more she can say to Anya. The rapid onslaught that passes through her mind every day is not easily transferrable to human communication, it never has been.

"Hi." As usual, Anya's face gives away no semblance of emotion. It is blank. It always was whenever she didn't know what to make out of a situation, and it was clear that the both of them had absolutely no solution to this ever-lasting problem.

She watches as she takes a seat down on her chair and closes the door after her. She looks right into her eyes and she frowns inwardly. "Why is it so hard to understand that this is hard for me, An?"

She never liked beating around the bush.

"It isn't hard to understand." Anya sighs and licks her top lip in deep thought. "You just have to try see it from my perspective, from _ours_." Her hands lie on her knee as it begins to jerk upwards and downwards in an insanely vexatious motion. "Lincoln and I? We want the best for you, we have always wanted the best for you. Don't you get it? You think you're throwing yourself into your studies but one day you'll be so far down in this world of _desperation_ -" She spits the word out like it's a cancer, and Lexa internally winces at its abrasive nature. "That you won't even be able to do that."

"You're turning yourself into a wreck, and it scares the shit out of me, Lex."

Lexa takes a deep breath in and stares at her cousin quizzically, "I don't know how not to be like this."

"Yes you do." Anya frowns at her, "This isn't you."

She turns her face away from her and closes her eyes, afraid of her own transparency. "How do you know that it isn't? People change, Anya." She spits her name out vehemently, "Bad things happen and people _change_."

Anya stands up, levels herself with her cousin and places her hands on her head; straightening her head so that she could look straight into her own eyes. "Yes, and you know more than anyone that when someone leaves us a part of them remains with us. It's inevitable, we know that. Don't you remember what it was like losing Indra?" Lexa can't not nod, she remembers, even throughout every fibre of her body telling her not to. She could never forget. "I lost my mum, Lexa. You lost her too. You and me? We know more than anyone that death is cruel and unforgiving, there is no silver lining." She sighs, "And you lost Costia. You lost the love of your life, nothing is going to change that – but do you honestly think she'd want to watch you do this to yourself?"

She doesn't reply.

"You know she wouldn't."

Lexa gently shakes her head free from Anya's grasp and closes her eyes, letting herself exhale a deep gust of air she didn't know she was holding in the first place. She knows Anya's right, and it's that fact alone that makes her want to scream in the first place.

Anya accepts the fact that she won't get more out of Lexa, and sits back down on her bed. "Well, since you haven't spoken to us in a while I think you should know that Lincoln literally – for the life of him – cannot stop talking about-" She frowns for a second and itches her head, "O something? Sounds like a Greek goddess type of thing? She's Raven's best friend."

"Octavia." Lexa completed her sentence and raises her eyebrow, "What the hell are you doing with Raven, Anya?"

She shrugs and lets her body hit the bed behind her, "Having fun."

"So it's just casual?" She asks her tentatively.

"Probably." She shrugs again, "Fuck knows."

She gets up again and throws Lexa a smirk, "How're you and blondie?"

Lexa rolls her eyes and clears her throat, "No."

"Oh, _yes_."

"Anya." She chastises her, "We literally just had a conversation about Costia."

Her tone changes a little bit after that; "I know." She says softly, "You do know it's alright to move on right? It's okay to like someone else."

"I know that it's okay." She says firmly, "I just don't know what there is to move on from, there's no closure it just…happened."

Anya smiles sympathetically, "I understand that, but I just feel like there's _something_ between the two of you, from what I've seen at least."

"What you've seen?" She scoffs, "You were too busy eye fucking Raven."

She rolls her eyes, "You can still see it. Plus, I know you- you deny things until they blow up in your face." She chuckles, "There's something about that girl that's made you make a little bit of an effort, and you can't deny that!" She raises her voice just as she realises Lexa was about to interrupt, " _You can't_. First you hate her, then you're willingly going to her house without me even having to beg you to get off your ass; you can't deny there's something you like about her."

"And I won't." Lexa says expectantly, "I enjoy her companionship."

Anya groans, "Alright, whatever you say." She gets her phone out and starts dialling a number, "Once I'm here we might as well have a movie night." Lexa can't help but wince at the suggestion; she really _did_ have things to do, "Come on, just like the good old times?"

Lexa wants to object, but finds that there's a bigger part of her that wants her to stay – so she nods. Just this one time. "Tell Lincoln to get some food, I'm starving."

She watches as Anya grins, and tries not to think about the blossoming that ensues in her heart as she witnesses the sheer joy on her face.

Perhaps, just this once.

**

Running was not Clarke's forte, but getting to English literature was far more important than the soreness she'd have to make up for the next day. She pants, and somehow gets to her class on time. She knows she's going to see Lexa and she smiles hesitantly before going into the class.

There's an empty seat next to Lexa and she worries, for just a second that Lexa wouldn't want her there. "Do you mind?"

Lexa rolls her eyes, but soon after nods in greeting and shares a little smirk with her. Clarke smiles, and she smiles a lot because there's something about seeing Lexa after a whole day that kind of makes her feel refreshed.

The lesson goes by quietly and Clarke finds that she's paying less and less attention to her teacher, and more attention to Lexa. She was slightly enamoured with the way Lexa wrote her notes with such precision – as if the world depended on it. Sometimes she'd get tired of writing so much and would flex her arm, then she'd look at Clarke and give her this _ghost_ of a smile. Somehow, Clarke had started taking that little hint of a smile as something greater altogether.

She watches her scribble down her notes some more, and she laughs inwardly at the way Lexa creased her forehead every time she couldn't understand something. Her hand would fly up, and she'd object and Clarke would just want to roll her eyes in adoration.

It wasn't till the last few minutes of the lesson, where Clarke realised that something was up. That something was definitely not right with the way she was thinking, and that she had been utterly – _ridiculously_ wrong.

You see, normal people don't note the small things their 'friend' does and smile at them, they don't forget that there's a lesson going on and they certainly do not look forward to their presence more than they look forward to anything else.

Clarke Griffin was wrong.

Horribly, wrong.

Wells was right. Octavia was right, hell even _Raven_ was right.

What she most feared, however; was how she didn't ever realise before.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa are chaotic and always bumping into each other carelessly. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have any more excuses honestly, life just gets in the way sometimes and I can't really find the way to write. But I love this story, and I'll always keep working on it, no matter how long the updates take. I love Clarke and Lexa too, I still wish things turned out better for the both of them. Enjoy.
> 
> *This is a 14k chapter, just saying*

Life had a pretty hilarious way of biting Clarke in the ass; continuously.

Two weeks ago Clarke had found out that she had made the biggest mistake of her life. It seemed that she had learnt nothing from Finn, absolutely _nothing_.

‘Fancying’ someone at this point in her life would prove to be a mistake in itself, but this? _Her_? This was bad. This was the type of mistake someone makes that could ruin them entirely. She wasn’t in any way exaggerating, Clarke knew this was bad the second she felt herself more drawn to Lexa than ever – than anyone.

Clarke did what she knew how to do best. She distracted herself in every way possible; bought and read all the books on her wish list, watched random series that Netflix had to offer and even did all of her Anatomy coursework. (Raven and Octavia had questioned her about this for days on end of course)

Nothing worked. Sometimes she’d be midway through one of the most captivating scenes in a movie and her mind would drift onto something that Lexa had said at work, or something that Lexa had texted her, or apparently _anything_ Lexa fucking did which would worm its way into Clarke’s naïve brain. It was just Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.

Other times she’d realise that Lexa wasn’t written on the roster at work and she could visibly feel her heart emit a wave of pure physical pain and in that moment Clarke learns to hates herself even more because she knows _exactly_ what all this means.

 She keeps all this to herself of course. It wouldn’t do her any good to tell anyone that they were right about Clarke’s insipid attempts at denying what she should have known from the start. That would make the whole situation all the more real, and _that_ was something she couldn’t deal with,

Maybe she’d be kidding herself if she thought that she could keep on denying that she liked her. Clarke wasn’t stupid; she knew there was a lot to like about Lexa. Lexa was beautiful. You’d see Lexa and think ‘ _wow, she’s gorgeous’_ , and she’d just keep becoming more fucking gorgeous by the second, because her mind was just as beautiful. She was the type of beautiful you could see even when her face was withered with all her sadness, and Lexa was very, _very_ sad.

That was perhaps the reason Clarke despised herself so much for feeling this.

Lexa held within her a type of sadness that no one would want to take on their shoulders. Her eyes bore it more than anything and it made Clarke feel it more than ever. Lexa is the one person that can make Clarke question things that she never would have thought of questioning, she spills truths unheard to anyone else’s ears and knows that Lexa is a dangerous delicacy because if she truly allows herself to feel this – she fears she might never feel so intensely about someone ever again.

Clarke doesn’t allow herself to think of such things.

She doesn’t even allow herself to think of the day of the week tomorrow. The time, the date.

She will anyway, it’s him after all.

Tomorrow will mark three years since his death. She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to think about the way everyone will remember it and try to do anything but talk about it with her. She’d like to forget the fact that Raven and Octavia will probably drag her to some horrible party and force her to taste the bitter remnants of tequila.

At least _they_ were on good terms. Better than ever in fact. No explanation to their sudden reconciliation, just their normal chummy selves. It was starting to piss Clarke off slightly, maybe because she was somehow always in the middle of their bullshit; maybe because she hates not knowing where she stands with either of them – ever. A part of her feels like she should give up on trying to figure them out.

Her phone buzzes incessantly and she silently thanks her mother for dragging her out of her brooding thoughts.

“Hey mum.”

“Hi Clarke.” Her voice sounds strained in a way, like this phone call in itself is somewhat painful to her. She can only guess why. “How’s life?”

Clarke frowns. “ _How’s life_?” She doesn’t think her mother has ever asked such a vague question in her life. “Are you alright?”

She hears a soft, delicate sigh on the other end and her heart aches for her. She knows the answer already. “Just a little tired, lots of work recently. People keep getting sicker and sicker it seems.”

“That’s what happens when you sign up to be a surgeon Mum.” She tries to joke but it comes out deadpan. It’s always awkward between them this time of the year. “Are you thinking of doing anything for tomorrow?” She chastises herself for bringing the topic up so bluntly. “You know… for Dad.”

There’s silence for a while. Clarke doesn’t even dare breathe, doesn’t even dare to acknowledge the twisted feeling in her stomach. “No I-” She hears rustling papers and her mother clearing her throat, “I’m swamped with surgeries tomorrow I don’t think I’ll have the time.”

Her answer is blunt. Her answers says all the things she can’t actually say to Clarke’s face. It’s a cop-out obviously. She knows that there would be a multitude of surgeons who would offer to take up her surgeries; everyone loved Jake, _everyone._

“Oh. Alright then.” She wants to sigh, wants her Mum to finally say something that doesn’t sound mechanical. Clarke wishes she’d utter more than one word about her Dad sometimes, or at least bother to even say his name. It’s like she’s forgotten sometimes, like he never existed.

“I’ve got to go Clarke.” Her tone is rushed. Irritated almost. “Glad to hear you’re doing well.”

Before Clarke even has time to reply, the line goes dead.

Funny. She never even told her mum how she was doing in the first place.

**

_Anya The Greatest 10:05 AM – Last night was actually fun!! Who knew watching one of your nerdy suggestions of a movie would actually turn out to be successful? Thanks, idiot._

She smiles when she gets the message. She doesn’t question the way her heart mirrors the feeling of her lips curling upwards, just writes a witty reply back and flexes her fingers in contentment.

It seemed that a part of Lexa was deciding to try a little harder; shutting Anya and Lincoln out was clearly doing more harm than good and for that reason her efforts to spend time with them increased tenfold. Her coursework would be completed in half the time it usually would be and maybe it was all down to the fact that she was releasing herself of some of the burdens.

Maybe another part of it could be that she had made an _actual_ friend. For most of Lexa’s life friends weren’t really things she indulged in, her _family_ were her friends. It was always her Anya and Lincoln.

And Costia.

Of course.

She always believed that family was more important than everything, friends were people you’d kill time with and Lexa had no time to kill. She had gotten used to it. Maybe she had gotten _too_ used to it. Which is why actually accepting Clarke as a friend is practically nothing like her, moreover even becoming friendly with _her_ friends.

Last week’s ‘outing’ with Raven proved to her that there was going to be a lot of change in her life, which was fine with her; she wasn’t a stranger in knowing that many things were not permanent in life, but this? This was different.

Clarke had this intriguing aspect to her. It’s probably why Lexa has actually started replying to much of Clarke’s silly text messages, and genuinely laughing at the stupid ‘memes’ Clarke tags her in. She feels normal when she’s around Clarke, like she was never broken in the first place. Clarke sees her as Lexa, not as Costia’s Lexa – not as that girl who lost her girlfriend in one of the most terrible ways. With Clarke she isn’t damaged, only _Lexa_.

 Maybe she won’t always look at her in that way, if she ever finds out. If she ever finds out what Lexa really is, she’ll just pity her and then their friendship will become a horrible cycle of piteous glances and concerned text messages.

She’d rather not think about that. What she does think about however, is how long it’s been since they met up. That last night where they got locked up in the coffee shop was probably the last time they had actually hung out besides casually seeing each other during work hours or lectures. But it wasn’t the same.

Maybe she should change that.

Maybe this time she should make the effort.

**

As predicted, Clarke is at some random party with a multitude of random sweaty people and all she wants to do is leave.

She can see Jasper and Maya making out in a corner to the left, Monty drunkenly trying to convince Raven that he should spike the moonshine with even _more_ moonshine and Octavia dancing provocatively against Lincoln. Any other day she’d probably be enjoying herself, or at least not glare at every single person who tries to talk to her.

Unfortunately today was not that day.

“Clarke?”

She turns round expectantly to see Bellamy. Maybe him she could face.

“Hey.” She tries. Sips her vodka cranberry and decides she might as well chug it down instead. “How’s life?” She bitterly mirrors her mother’s strange question yesterday and immediately scolds herself for being so transparent.

He raises a cautious brow in question and sighs. “I should be asking you that, you look positively murderous.”

“Oh, is murdering someone a positive thing now?”

“It’s a figure of speech, dumbass.”

She chuckles and shakes her head in exasperation. “I’m going to get a refill, come with?”

Bellamy shrugs and nods, following her as she pushes through people with the least bit of patience. She doesn’t even glance at him as she makes sure that the contents of her cup are drowned in vodka, or whatever the hell she was pouring into her cup.

“So.” He clears his throat and watches her wordlessly. “How badly do you want to leave?”

She scoffs, “That obvious?”

“We won’t take long Clarke, I’ll find Octavia in an hour or so and we can leave I promise.” He looks at her hopefully, probably trying to convey some kind of message to her without saying it out loud. She knows he knows, it’s written all over their faces today and perhaps it is for that reason alone she wishes to vanish without ever returning.

Clarke licks her lips in doubt and throws back a shot of tequila she poured during Bellamy’s doubtful declaration. “Octavia’s off somewhere dry humping Lincoln, I don’t think you’re going to want to find her in an hour or so.”

His face grows a little darker at that statement and instantly grabs the bottle of vodka in his hands. “What the hell are those two doing anyway?” He takes a gulp and only winces for a second, “I don’t like the looks of him.”

She doesn’t feel like this. She doesn’t want to reassure Bellamy that her sister is probably in good hands and that dating is a normal thing people do nowadays; that just because she was always his responsibility – doesn’t mean she abstains from the normal things people do day to day.

Maybe that makes her a special kind of bitch, because even though today is the one day she must be reminded that her father is dead and alone in some grave far, _far_ away; she can’t find it within herself to put people before herself today. She doesn’t know why today affects her more than ever, because she knows she doesn’t need the 27th of October to remind her that the person who understood her most in her life is gone – she remembers that every single day.

“Clarke?”

She snaps out of her daze and is hit with the immediate realisation that she is _drunk_. “I’m going to go check where Monty and Raven are, Miller’s busting my phone with question marks. You coming?”

She should. She knows she should. But the withering pain in her chest tells her to stay put, reminds her incessantly that the only she thing she wants to do right now is be with her father. To remember the reassuring smiles he would give her when anything went wrong, to stop forgetting his laugh; the gentle creases around his eyes that appeared when he would. She wanted to stop forgetting, because each day he slipped through her fingers as if he was never there in the first place.

“No.” She breathes in carefully, trying to avoid the fact that the world was beginning to spin. “No. I think I’m going to stay here for a bit. Message me if you need anything.”

He doesn’t leave immediately. He nods, but stares at her for a few seconds before leaving. He looks worried. She knows he would stay with her if he could, she knows it because Bellamy is the kindest person she has ever met, but not even his kindness can save her today.

“Message me if _you_ need anything.” He squeezes her hand lightly, and in a second he is off into the bizarre crowd of people she fears she might need to face eventually.

After a couple more sips of her drink and an alarmingly long time staring at the floor, she can feel someone else’s presence in the room. She watches a dark haired boy top up his drink and chug it immediately after, and before she can even judge the desperation in the way he drank his drink she hears a greeting.

“Hey.”

Clarke wants to roll her eyes at him. She’d like to avoid the small talk, be extremely rude and stop him before he even decides to continue their conversation. But she doesn’t. “Hello.”

“Are you just as tired of this party as I am?” He exhales roughly and drops his head back a little, and Clarke can’t help but take in his facial features with a type of hunger that could only mean she was _really_ drunk. “The music is shit, the atmosphere is shit and the only reason I’m here in the first place is because I _feel_ like shit.”

She wants to say something stupid like ‘same’, but she doesn’t feel like indulging this conversation. She wants to indulge in something else entirely. “I guess we should both find a way to make this event _less_ shitty then, don’t you?” She walks towards him cautiously, enough to see that her eyes weren’t deceiving her. She scanned the way his cheekbones gave extra definition to his face, imagined dragging her hands all over them and waited eagerly for the moment they could stop talking altogether.

“How.”

It wasn’t a question.

For that reason she isn’t surprised to find a generous amount of reciprocation when she fuses their lips together, in probably the least decent way possible. She knows how incredibly drunk she is, she can taste how incredibly drunk _he_ is, so the whole ‘I didn’t speak to the guy for more than five seconds before jumping him’ thing doesn’t really bug her. It wasn’t the first time she had done this anyway, she knew how to read body language from all the times she let random strangers steal her for a night after Finn broke up with her.

He takes her across a crowd and into a more private area, moans as he drags hard kisses around her neck and wants this to be over with more than ever. She likes the way he doesn’t beat around the bush, the way she can feel that he wants this just as much as her; maybe a part of her even relishes in the fact that this is perhaps the most impersonal thing ever and how they will most probably both go their own way almost instantly after.

He leaves her neck alone and kisses in her a way she is ultimately sure bruises them both. His hand wanders around her body, places she only touches herself on the loneliest of nights and just when he reaches for the inside of her thigh, her eyes open immediately.

She can feel her stomach twist in ways that scream that she should stop this. She can’t explain it because just seconds ago she felt like she wanted this more than anything. She wants to stop thinking about the ways his hands feel like a cancer on her body, wants to enjoy the way he lightly and then not so lightly nips at her jaw but she can’t. She can’t.

Gently, she pushes his hands away from her and straightens her top. “I’m sorry.” Her head feels like it could collapse in itself and she tries her best not to look at his face. “I need to go.” She closes her eyes tightly and breathes heavily as she runs away from him, from everyone, from _everything_.

Her body doesn’t let her run for much longer than a minute before she once again is reminded that the world is spinning far more than it should be. She finds herself sitting outside the house where the party was being held, rubbing her hands over her face and sighing deeply as she tries her best to hold back sobs.

It had been months since she cried, the last time she did she swore she never would again. Not over someone, not like she did over Finn.

_But she misses her dad._

She misses the way her family was put together, the way she could visibly see how much him and her mum were so in love. The time were she would look at her mum and see contentment, see that she was pure and whole in all the ways she isn’t now. She misses him because he was one of the kindest, most caring, and most honourable people in her life. She doesn’t need a reason to miss him, he was her dad.

It’s hard to continue loving someone when they are so inexplicably _gone_.

Two people walk out and run off laughing into some kind of euphoric moment Clarke only wishes she could feel right now. She feels empty, she feels lost. The last thing she wants right now is to be seen; she thinks of calling Bellamy but is rapidly met with the image of him and her friends being overly concerned for her and cringes.

Words can’t explain why she immediately thinks of her. Why she is instantly at the back of Clarke’s mind every waking hour of the day, why on this specific day and in this specific hour she only wants her. All she knows is that she is far too drunk to think of all the reasons why she shouldn’t message her, and so she does.

_Clarke 2:17 AM – Are you awake?_

She doesn’t know what she expects. Just definitely not this.

_Lexa 2:17 AM – I am._

Her reply is immediate. Clarke breathes a shaky sigh of relief.

_Clarke 2:17 AM – I’m sorry if you’re busy._

She feels guilty and embarrassed, silently chastises herself for being so needy, especially when it comes to her. _Especially when it comes to her._

_Clarke 2:17 AM – I’m at this party and I just don’t know if I really want to be here anymore and I’m sorry I’m messaging you at this hour of the night I just don’t know what to do._

_Lexa 2:18 AM – It’s Okay I was just watching a biography Clarke._

Despite everything she finds herself laughing at that, because _of course she was_.

_Clarke 2:18 AM – You’re such a dork._

_Lexa 2:18 AM – Well if you’re going to call me a dork then I could easily continue my biography._

_Clarke 2:19 AM - :(_

_Lexa 2:19 AM – So what’s wrong?_

She hesitates to tell her, wonders what Lexa would think of her – but ultimately decides she might as well now that she was at this point.

_Clarke 2:21 AM – I don’t know. I got dragged to this stupid party and drank too much, started making out with this guy and just as we were about to hook up I ran away and now I feel even worse. I just want to leave._

_Lexa 2:22 AM – How are you getting home?_

_Clarke 2:22 AM – Well Bellamy’s the designated driver tonight, but judging by the amount of alcohol he’s drinking we aren’t going to be driving anywhere tonight._

_Clarke 2:23 AM – I think I’m just going to walk it._

_Lexa 2:23 AM – No._

She is surprised at how quickly the response comes.

_Lexa 2:23 AM – I’ll come for you._

Clarke hates the way her heart drops in the most delightful of ways as she says that. She knows she shouldn’t, no matter how much she wants her to – she knows this will only make things worse.

_Clarke 2:23 AM – Lexa, I’m not going to let you do that. I’ll be fine._

_Lexa 2:24 AM – No you won’t be. Clarke, you’re drunk and its dark, it isn’t safe._

_Clarke 2:24 AM – I can just wait it out._

_Lexa 2:24 AM – Where are you?_

_Clarke 2:24 AM – I’m not saying._

_Lexa 2:25 AM – Yes you are._

_Lexa 2:26 AM – Clarke you better reply. I’ll call Raven._

_Clarke 2:26 AM – How the fuck do you have her number?_

_Lexa 2:26 AM – Not Important. Tell me._

_Clarke 2:26 – Fine._

_Clarke 2:27 AM – Close to grounders, it’s a house a little bit down the road. Looks like a bunch of reckless college students inhabit it you know._

_Lexa 2:27 AM – I’m on my way._

_Clarke 2:27 AM – Lexa, Jesus Christ. Don’t._

_Lexa 2:27 AM – Shut up._

She exhales roughly, traces her cheeks lightly and feels them burning.

She’s fucked, she’s absolutely _fucked_.

**

Lexa is driving faster then she has in a while. In all honestly, this _is_ the first time Lexa has driven in a while. Anya gave her car keys to her own car just in case of emergencies, and well maybe today was kind of an emergency.

She convinces herself that the only reason she accelerates at a rate that would make her look insane is because after Costia she could never be just cautious. That this was normal. That the idea of Clarke being all alone, drunk and unhappy, making her want to scold her friends was just the normal concerns of a good friend.

It doesn’t take her a long time to find the house she described, and when she finally saw Clarke; face downwards and looking at her phone, she feels the biggest wave of relief fly over her.

_Lexa 2:49 AM – Not sure but I feel like you’re the one outside who looks like they have literally not taken a shower in weeks._

She waits for Clarke to get the message and feels laughter jump out of her when she watches her visibly roll her eyes at her. As Clarke walks towards the car she witnesses half of a smile on her face and it makes Lexa feel something she can’t describe. It’s like coming home after a horrible day, smelling what you’ve come to recognize is home. It feels like she missed her.

What the car _actually_ smells like as she walks in, is alcohol and Lexa can’t help but frown in seeing a hickey right below her jaw.

“Yeah. I’m not too keen on it either.”

Lexa looks back up to Clarke and feels slightly embarrassed in realising she saw her looking. “I’m sorry, I  just-” there’s a lump in her throat and as much as she tries to shake the feeling of uncertainty away, she can’t shake off the strange feeling that something doesn’t sit well with her every time she looks at it. “It looks funny.”

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief and bites her lip, “Dork.”

“I’ll leave you here.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in response and Lexa is struck in the way she manages to still look beautiful and oh so put together when her mascara has seemingly managed to make its way to the middle of her cheeks. “Oh yeah.” She mocks Lexa’s voice and begins to speak in a higher pitched tone, “Clarke you’re drunk and it’s dark, it isn’t safe!!!”

“That is in no way what I sound like that.”

“Sure.” She hits Lexa lightly on the arm, “Come on start driving.”

She gives Clarke an annoyed look and starts up the car, secretly enjoying the comfortable silence they both eventually fall into as they drive away from the hell hole of a house. It feels right, because for just a couple of moments she doesn’t feel as hollow.

They’re almost near her apartment, which makes Lexa come up with a proposal “Hey Clarke?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you want to come over to mine tomorrow?”

Clarke’s eyes widen as they stop by her apartment and her eyebrows raise immensely. “Really?” She narrows her eyes, “This is a strange request coming from the stick up her ass.”

She rolls her eyes “I can easily retract my offer you know.”

“Is this your way of saying you’ve missed my presence?” Clarke bats her eyelashes dramatically, “I’d understand you know, I’ve been told I’m delightful on many occasions.”

“I regret asking.”

Clarke shoots her a small smile and tilts her head to the side, “What time?”

“Is around 6 okay?”

“More than okay.” She assures her, “I finally get to see where you spend 99% of your time.”

She’s not sure about how she can roll her eyes more than once in a minute but apparently Clarke can make that happen. “I’m never going to ask you again.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as Clarke gets up to leave, but before doing so she wraps her arms around Lexa tightly. “Thank you.” It’s a breathy response, and it’s mostly whispered into her ear but she can hear the desperation behind it; she notices the way her eyes close momentarily before opening the car door and it makes Lexa’s heart twist inside.

Something was wrong today, and it took her a whole car ride to notice that.

**  
The world doesn’t dishevel into pieces the next morning, it stays the same. The same dull ache in the same dull place, except this time it feels a little duller. She thinks about her when she wakes up, before she thinks about her dad, and all the festering pain that comes with the idea of him. She thinks of her.

It’s not that she’s cured of all the filth of yesterday, that would be all too perfect, all too surreal; only that her mind has now purposely saved a special spot to savour Lexa. She savours her when she speaks, the way her eyes are quite literally more expressive than any of the most intricately described books she has ever read, and sometimes she just savours the idea of her. The idea that Lexa isn’t as complicated as she makes herself out to be, that besides the coveted looks and unspeakable truths that lie deep within her skull, she is just like Clarke.

But she doesn’t really know what that really could be. Clarke doesn’t know what the essence of herself entails anymore, it seems she has forgotten. Maybe Lexa could remind her.

Or maybe she was just continuously hoping for things that never really mattered in the first place.

“Heyyo.”

There’s no knock as usual, just the same cluster of voices that always piss her off more than usual nowadays.

“Jesus Christ it’s like walking into a fucking brewery” Raven’s boisterous voice is not the greatest sound to hear half an hour after your body has decided to wake up from its slumber, especially when said body is currently very annoyed with her.

Octavia laughs and flops onto Clarke’s bed, “My guess is Clarke’s blood stream is 99% Tequila and 1% pure regret at this very moment.”

Silence is the only thing that can truly envelope the frustration and hurt that she can feel crawling down into the ground, ready to bring everything else down with her. She doesn’t say anything, because she no longer feels like she should. She doesn’t say anything, because anger is the only emotion she feels they both deserve in this very moment.

She hears them shuffling awkwardly; can positively envision them sharing quizzical looks behind her, and she finally sighs as a reply.

“Hey.” Raven turns her chair around so that she could face her. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke shrugs, “I’m hungover. What else do you want to be wrong?”

“We all know it’s not a hangover that’s making you like this Clarke, come on.” Octavia’s voice is like the slap of reality you don’t want, and never really need when you feel like there is a numbing silence in your head rising. Always rising.

 She turns her head sharply to face Octavia and raised her eyebrows. “Making me like _what_ , exactly?”

“Like _that_.” She tilts her head to the side slightly and shakes her head, “How did you even get home last night?”

Clarke breaths in slowly, “Lexa.”

“No comment.”

Raven snorts, “So basically your girlfriend came to the rescue and picked you up?”

There is absolutely nothing so aggravating than trying to keep your cool when everything in the entirety of yourself is telling you to scream. Clarke has always been like this. Always trying to shut up when she knows she shouldn’t, always trying to avoid what she knows she can say in a heartbeat. Always trying to be the rational one. Always trying.

“No.” She scoffs, “My _friend_ picked me up because she knew I was having a shit time and that’s generally what friends do.” She stands up and goes to fetch her bag. “But hey! Guess fucking what! She wouldn’t have had to do any of that if my _best friends_ decided to give a shit about me at all and realised I didn’t want to go to that stupid fucking party anyway.”

And that was it.

Purse. Bus money. Headphones.

“Clarke!”

Shoes.

“Jesus, Clarke.”

Cardigan. Maybe she should get her sunglasses just in case?

“Clarke, what the hell are you doing?”

More money, she kind of really needs a coffee right now.

“ _CLARKE_!”

“WHAT?” She stops her frantic search and tries to calm her breathing down. “What the fuck do you want?”

She can see Octavia’s eyes brimming with her own type of anger, and Raven staring at her as if she had just about gone mad.

“We just want to know what’s wrong Clarke.” Raven’s voice is soft, it screams concern and guilt all at once and Clarke just isn’t ready to pretend she’s fine. She doesn’t want to ever pretend she’s fine. She doesn’t want to ever pretend that _any_ of this is ‘fine’.

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief as she looks at the two of them. Always just the two of them. The inseparable force, the strange and unforbidden territory they never accept. The middle ground Clarke stays in as she watches the two of them rip each other to pieces. She is tired. Tired of pretending she doesn’t know what is truly going on with the two of them. Tired of giving a rat’s ass in the first place.

She is tired of the everlasting feeling of always having to be good enough, perfect enough to be able to latch them onto each other again.

Perfection cannot exist in someone so detrimentally broken.

“Everything is wrong.” She stares at her clenched fist. “Everything is always fucking wrong, and I can never accept that. I can’t accept it because all I do is try to hold everyone up, make them feel better, be responsible for them and I am so _fucking tired_.”

Octavia sighs, “Clarke, is this about yesterday?” She clears her voice as she shares a wary look at Raven, “Look, if this is about your dad we’re the people you can talk to about it. We’ve been there, seen it and-?”

Enough.

She shares one look. She shares a warning, like the calm before the furious death of a star as it expands into a whole new type of matter completely. She looks at them both and she knows that they know. That they know exactly what she means.

“ _Don’t_.”

And with a quiet closing of a door, she has escaped.

**

It takes her approximately two hours to find Lexa’s dorm.

Actually, it only takes her around five minutes; but seeing as she dramatically left her apartment seven hours earlier than she should have, to go to Lexa’s as planned, she decided that wondering aimlessly around the school campus on a Saturday was a good idea.

She also may or may not have had around five coffees amongst those two hours.

Eventually, after realising she had left her phone at her apartment during her hasty exit she came to the ultimate conclusion that she should just find Lexa’s dorm room and interrupt whatever the hell she spent all her time doing in there. Even if it meant Lexa getting understandably frustrated with her (which she was a thousand percent sure she could not handle on top of everything).

33C.

The big bold letters were out there in front of her, inches away from her face. All she had to do now was knock. One knock, maybe two; and she’d just explain everything to Lexa. Or maybe, half of everything. A good quarter.

A third perhaps would be a better idea.

_Maybe I should just tell her I needed to use the loo. (Since when has she ever used the word ‘loo’ in her life before?) Or is that too weird? Quite strange. Nevermind._

“Clarke?”

In that moment she wasn’t quite sure who she was staring at, and then in the next she was suddenly frightingly aware of it.

It was Lexa, of course.

But it was Lexa like she had never seen her before.

The first thing she noticed, before anything else – were the _sweatpants_.

Long, Grey sweatpants. On Lexa Woods.

“...Clarke?”

She doesn’t need another instance of her name being called out to finally snap back into reality. (If this was even reality. I mean, Lexa Wood; miss stick up her ass, the past bane of her existence for a whole of three weeks was wearing _sweatpants_.)

“Hi. Sorry.” She figures she should tell her exactly why she was staring at her door but she doesn’t know where to start and suddenly the words are jumbled up into nothingness and nothingness is surprisingly the type of thing that can never really be explained.

The other thing that can also never really be explained is how strangely beautiful Lexa looks when she puts absolutely no effort at all. Her glasses swoop down to the mid bridge of her nose and her eyes are free of the fierce line of eyeliner that is usually placed there. The top she’s wearing is overcasted by a burgundy zip up, giving way to the way her eyes are surrounded by slight pools of darker undertones.

It is Lexa in her most natural form and it strings a flutter of pure awe in her heart that she is seeing her like this. Free of all Clarke’s preconceptions of what she must look like at home. For some reason she always imagined Lexa to be in a suit, at a desk,with a really serious face whilst she typed some weird law stuff in the comfort of her own home.

“Clarke.” She watches as Lexa snaps her fingers in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Now that she has had the longest brain fart in history, she can safely say that she actually might be. Kind of.

“Yes.” She exhales roughly. “Sorry, this must be so weird. I’m five hours early.”

Lexa just stares.

“If it helps I was going to be seven hours earlier but I spent two hours wondering around campus.” She shows her her latest coffee carton and smiles. “Hey, did you know they kind of make it like we do at grounders?”

She continue to stare at her in confusion and slowly nods at the coffee. “Yeah uhm.” She clears her throat, “It’s alright if you came early I just wasn’t expecting you to uh.” She pushes her glasses back up her nose and suddenly becomes aware of herself. “Well I look like a downright mess for starters, if you messaged I could have got myself cleaned up a little.”

Clarke winces and immediately starts to feel out of place.

She seems to notice this however and finally decides to give her a smile. “It’s alright though, I don’t mind. My only concern is that I look slightly dishevelled and all that.”

“ _I_ don’t mind.” Her answer is so quick she’s aware of how strange it must sound. “I mean. I think you look nice.”

Lexa’s brow furrows slightly.

“Also. I left my phone at the apartment I kind of left in a rush which is why I didn’t message you.”

This does nothing to relieve the furrowed brow.

“Oh?” Lexa squints at her and after a while decides to say something again instead of staring at her in utter confusion. “Okay. Come in, you’re confusing me.”

Clarke gives her a nervous smile (because what else is she supposed to do?) and finally walks into the apartment. She isn’t surprised to see the numerous amount of books splattered across the floor, across her desk, and even across one of the beds. Her room is a mess, and for some reason Clarke finds it highly endearing.

“Wow, your room mate keeps her side of the room extremely clean.” She throws a semi judgy look at Lexa and smirks.

Lexa shrugs, “Actually, I don’t have a room mate.”

“What?”

“The person who was supposed to stay here decided to cancel last minute, something about living in an apartment instead of actually living inside the school.” She looks at the seamlessly empty bed, “I basically live in ultimate solitude 24/7.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow, “Is that even good for you, considering you basically never go out?”

“Do you want to spend another two hours roaming around the school campus again Clarke?”

She feigns a gasp in retaliation and shakes her head in disbelief, “Is that a threat?”

“Yes.” She shoots Clarke a glance and for just a second her lips twitch upwards as if she was about to smile and it makes her realise that this is exactly what is so captivating about Lexa. Mysterious isn’t the correct adjective, and perhaps there truly isn’t one that can actually describe her because she is everything but describable. All Clarke can say is that it’s always an ‘almost’ with Lexa.

The time she almost cried, the times she almost lets herself smile the most genuine of smiles, the glimpses of moments where she can almost feel Lexa let loose with her; can almost feel her trust her. Every day she searches for the moment where there could possibly be an ‘absolutely’, a ‘certainly’, the one day she might look at Clarke and give her more than just a sullen look. That for once, maybe, possibly – there could be some kind of clarity in the way that Clarke looks at this girl and feels ultimately disillusioned by the sheer sentiments she provokes in her.

“So.” Lexa clears up a few of her books from the floor and puts them to a side, “I have yet to find out why you are here so early.”

She feels sheepish in that moment looking at her, and ultimately horrible seeing as this was the second time she had interrupted Lexa’s personal space bubble in less than twenty four hours and both times were because she just didn’t want to be somewhere. Except maybe with her.

“Oh.” She bites her lip, “I had a fight with Raven and Octavia, and I ended up dramatically leaving the house and you know, since I couldn’t find a way to dramatically enter again I decided to not go back, and well now I’m here.”

“I see.”

“I’m really sorry honestly, even for yesterday.” She finds herself twiddling her thumbs in anticipation, her throat feeling so strained at the mere thought of explaining everything, that she tries to look away (and fails). “Things have been difficult these last few days and I wish I had something better to say but I can’t really...well, I just don’t know how to put it into words. I guess.”

For the first time in their five minute meeting, Lexa looks at her with the slightest glimpse of concern. She thinks for a second, that she yearns for Lexa to do something incredibly ridiculous; like, hug her. Or say something even more ridiculous like ‘ _Oh don’t fret! Everything will be okay!_ ’ even when it is a known fact that none of them truly know if it will be. She’s hit with the crushing realisation once again, that she’s _far_ too enamoured with this girl.

“I wanted to ask yesterday actually, if you were...uhm.” It is as if she takes a second to re process her speech and clears her throat. “You seemed a little off.”

Clarke nods, “It’s been a rough couple of days to say the least.”

Years. She should have said years.

The air falls silent between them and it seems like none of them know what to say. One could mistaken this silence as the tense fusion of mutual awkwardness, but it is intense in ways that awkward tension can never truly encompass. She’s aching to say something else to Lexa, something that could make sense to the both of them, because sometimes she can’t truly understand the nature of their friendship. Sometimes she can’t truly understand the nature of herself.

“Do you?” Lexa looks around the room and clears her throat once again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

_Yes. God, Yes._

“I think you’ve dealt with all but enough of my shit for the last twenty four hours, don’t you?” She gives her a smile, despite everything in her body wanting to say the complete opposite.

Lexa stays put, her eyes firmly set on Clarke. “I didn’t really ever mind.”

It’s horribly embarassing, Clarke knows this, but that statement is enough to knock the wind out of her chest. She wants to stop feeling the pain of a loss she holds on her back every single day, cry out in frustration because she is positively sure that absolutely no one understands. No one, but her; and she has no genuine idea as to why she thinks that, because truly, she has no idea who the girl standing so effortlessly in front of her really is.

“I’m trying, you know?” Her voice shakes. It shakes, and she knows that she won’t be able to stop at this point. “I’m trying to stop letting this affect me, and somehow stop my hands from shaking _every time_ I think about it. Or him.” She closes her eyes quickly, before any of the tears can possibly start pouring down. “Three years.”

She opens her eyes and stares up at Lexa, who stares back at her with the same profound expression.

“Yesterday.” She ruminated the word in her head, “Yesterday marked three years since he’s been gone.”

‘ _Gone’_.

Clarke wasn’t really sure if she liked that word. It implied that he left in a swift movement, free of the constraints of life and time; when in reality it was one of the most excrutiatingly long processes she had ever endured in her life because he is never really gone. He is always here, with her.

She closes her eyes fiercly, wishing she could be less aware of Lexa’s eyes boring into her own. “I never have anyone to talk about it with, and for the most part that’s my own choice.” Her eyes are brimming, and her chest heaves at the realisation that she could end up being so vulnerable in front of a girl who constantly threatens to take her breath away. “But the person I’d like to talk about it the most too, can’t. My mum, she makes the most absurd of excuses to even avoid comemmorating his death at least once a year. I say his name once and I won’t see or be able to speak to her the rest of the day.”

“It’s fucking exhausting.” Her hands violently run through her hair in frustration, “ _I’m_ exhausted. Every day I make the effort to make sure everyone else is fine, that they’re at their best, so that _they_ can fucking function throughout the day when in reality I can’t even hold up a fucking hook up without freaking out.” She’s angry now. She’s everything, _everything_ but happy. “I’m just tired. Of everyone, of everything. Of taking on all the responsibility when I have no room for it myself.”

Clarke finds the courage to look back up at Lexa and is met with a parting of the lips, and eyebrows raised upwards in the most gentle way she had ever seen. Indescribable. Always.

“Shit.” She lets out a rough sigh, “I just dumped everything on you. I’m sorry.”

Lexa shakes her head far too quickly after that sentence, and looks at her with the most frightening look she had ever seen; because it wasn’t indescribable anymore. She wasn’t indescribable. She was here, with Clarke, closer than ever and for the first time Clarke was _absolutely certain_ that this girl in front of her, this girl cared. It wasn’t an almost, it wasn’t a maybe, it was the absolute truth staring right into her.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry, Clarke.”

Then she does the most absurd thing Clarke has ever witnessed Lexa do, to _anyone_. She hugs her. Hugs the life out of her, so much so that she can breathe her in. Clarke’s eyes close quickly and all she can feel is overwhelmed, because this girl is too much. She is too good, too beautiful for her to be corrupted by the natural disaster that Clarke is.

 It is in this moment that Clarke feels everything. She feels Lexa’s hot breath on her neck, the way her arms are placed so tightly around her neck and she feels herself falling deeper into whatever she feels for Lexa. She knows she should get away and detach, but Clarke cannot think with her head as if it means nothing. Clarke feels like she has never felt anything in her life, she is hungry for it. Clarke is heart, not head. And Lexa? She fears Lexa has _all_ her heart.

“I want you to know.” The soft whisper of her voice startles her for a second, she can even feel the breath tickling her ear and she has to stop herself from flinching. “I understand.”

Clarke pulls away gently in that moment and looks at her quizically. Lexa stares back at her an Clarke can sense a kind of hesitation in the way Lexa’s lower lip quivers ever so slightly. “I value you more than I can honestly understand in this moment Clarke. You don’t know it, and I never really expected you to, but you’ve played a big part in me trying harder.”

“Trying harder?”

“To live.” Clarke cannot help but feel a shiver go right through her as she heard that. “You are the first person I have really called a ‘friend’ in a while Clarke. I know how that sounds of course, I know I’m technically the strangest person on this earth, but you are the first person who has accepted that and put up with it, in a long while.” She sighs and sits down on the floor, inviting Clarke to join her. “You were a threat to my endless solitude, so I avoided you at all costs at first.” She smiles at her, “And now it feels like I can’t really remember why I was honestly worried in the first place.”

She wishes Lexa would stop. She wishes Lexa knew what she was feeling right now, she wishes she could show Lexa that these beautiful words she uses to describe how valuable Clarke is to her in this moment; are a cancer to her. It makes Clarke feel special, it makes her feel like everything could possibly be okay if Lexa is there, caring, wondering about her. It makes Clarke feel smaller, and smaller.

“I’m telling you this because you’ve made such an effort to be my friend and I’ve kind of always thrown it to the side.” Lexa keeps talking and talking, and Clarke keeps falling and falling. “But I don’t want that to be the message you get from me.      You can talk to me about your father, about your mother; Clarke, you can talk to me about _anything_. I appreciate that you already do, I also sometimes question it because we haven’t known each other for that long and-”

“Sometimes it feels much longer than that.”

Lexa looks back at her startled, but starts to nod slowly. “Yes.”

“Yeah.” Clarke sighs, “I can’t talk about these things to people I have known practically all of my life, but you come in and I’m suddenly an open book.” She chuckles slightly, “It’s a little infuriating sometimes.”

She frowns, “How so?”

“I know so little about you, and yet you know so much about me.” She shrugs, “It’s not a subliminal message for you to start spilling your life story or something, so don’t take it that way. Just, I get annoyed with myself because I’m not the person I act like I am. I’m the introvert, I just know how to act like an extrovert. I’m reserved, I treasure the time I have with myself, I’m the one who says all that she can say to someone else about their problems, but I never talk about mine. With you, it’s the complete opposite.”

“I’m trying.” She replies sincerely, “I do understand what you mean though. I would feel the same way considering I am quite like that.” She shoots Clarke a mischevious look, “Maybe we are not all that different after all.”

Clarke rolls her eyes playfully and lies back onto the floor, Lexa following soon after.

“I just feel like I don’t truly know what’s going on with my life, you know?” She laughs, “I mean I sound like a complete fucking cliche, but it’s _true_.” She turns her face to the side to face Lexa, “It’s like nothing really matters anymore, like I can’t really feel anything to it’s utter complete potential, because I can’t relate to anything and anyone anymore.” She wants to add ‘except you’, but she isn’t sure she really wants Lexa to ever know that.

Lexa blinks and looks down for a while, “Funny.” She sighs, “I feel like I have felt nothing but that in my life. Always out of place.”

“Yes.” Clarke swallows, “Always.”

“You’re changing that, for me.”

She can’t really believe that she’s heard what she’s heard. She definitely cannot believe that it’s coming from Lexa’s mouth either. What she can believe though, is that she feels the exact same way.

Clarke’s lips twitch upwards as she continues to bore into Lexa.

 “I think-” She breathes in shakily, “I think you are too.”

**

They spent a while watching the strangest videos on youtube, (and some episodes of Big Brother, ~~suggested~~ forced by Clarke) and all throughout it, Lexa couldn’t stop thinking. She didn’t really know what sparked up such a conversation between her and Clarke – or what made her say those horribly sentimental things. She didn’t really know anything.

She knows that she hates the way she had been eagerly looking forward to Clarke all day, and the way she was instantly delighted the second she showed up hours earlier. The way she was immediately very aware of what she was wearing, truly, the way Clarke slithered into her life and made everything feel almost whole again.

She hates the way she doesn’t really hate it at all.

“Listen, if you’re going to stay disappearing into your own world every time we start a new episode of big brother at least tell me during the parts Paul comes on so I can join you.”

Lexa sighs, “He is the most despicable human being I have ever had to witness.”

“And yet America loves him.”

“Well I don’t.” She hits the space button and pauses the episode. “Are you hungry?”

Clarke shrugs, “You mean, hungry as in ‘hey I haven’t eaten since yesterday do you think it would be a good idea to eat now?’ or just, ‘my stomach is the size of my regrets of course I’m hungry’?”

“I mean, are you fucking hungry?”

“Could you please refrain from swearing it’s really ruining the stick up your ass image I’ve retained for you.” Clarke shoots her a dashing smirk and it makes Lexa’s insides burst a little. Not literally, obviously.

For a second she thinks about doing something drastic, like hugging her, but that is definitely something she will not do. Definitely not. Nope. Not again.

Instead, she’ll cook for the both of them, like a proper hostess.

“How does spag bol sound?” She stares at Clarke expectantly, to which she is met with a gasp.

“You?” Clarke clears her throat, “Lexa freaking Woods? Making me dinner/lunch? Linner? Dunch?”

“Would it be possible for you to shut up and actually answer my question for once or is that idea completely abstract for you?”

Clarke giggles and nods her head, “Spag bol sounds great, in the mean time though I shall continue watching Paul’s ego grow to the size of my hatred for him”

“That also sounds great considering that means I won’t hear your voice for half an hour or so.”

Clarke sticks out her middle finger at her and Lexa can’t help but laugh. (She seems to do that a lot around Clarke recently it’s very strange.)

After a while of looking for some of the ingredients she finds herself thinking about what Clarke had said to her earlier. Loss was not new to Lexa, in fact for the most part it has been a defining force in her life, it surrounds her through everything. You’d think after all that loss, she’d somehow learn to make peace with it; except it’s quite the opposite.

When she sees the same pain reflected in someone else, its different. Pain is everywhere, quite frankly no one really is immune to pain. No one. But people deal with it in different ways; and the way Lexa deals with pain is not common. She knows this because no one she has really ever met in her life, has ever truly understood the pain of moving on and staying ultimately still at the same time. Not anyone, until Clarke.

Clarke speaks and Lexa understands. Except, she doesn’t just ‘understand’, Clarke’s words are like the unspoken truths that scramble her brain every day. She feels her pain as if it is her own, and it is nothing short of disturbing.

She just can’t shake the fact that there is something between the two of them that surpasses anything she has ever experienced, and it scares her to death.

“I’m almost done.” Lexa sifts the spaghetti into the sink and turns off the cooker. “Could you get my desk in the middle and start setting it up please?”

“This is already so domestic and I’ve only ever been here once!”

Her eyes quite literally roll to the back of her head, “I really didn’t think I’d be telling you to shut up again so soon.”

“I’m one in a million Lexa, I end up surprising everyone at some point in time, get used to it.”

She proceeds to shake her head at Clarke’s nonsensical chatter, and grabs the two seperate bowls of sauce and spaghetti onto the table. “Okay. Sit.”

“Yes sir!”

She prepares both of their food into their own plates and grabs some grated cheese. “Bon appetit.”

“Baby.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Katy Perry song?”

Lexa stares in silence.

Clarke shakes her head in disappointment, “Do you literally live under a rock?”

“You could say that.” She shrugs. She points her fork at Clarke’s plate, “Eat.”

“If you give me food poisoning, we’re going to have problems.”

Lexa sighs, “You’re not going to get food poisoning from spaghetti bolognese Clarke, now shut up and let me eat in peace.”

“Fine.”

Two seconds later, Clarke is back to talking.

“This is actually really good, what the hell?”

“Did you doubt me?”

“YES.” She looks at her in awe, “I can’t cook food without burning it. I burn _toast_.”

“How unprofessional.”

Clarke looks up from her plate and smirks with a piece spaghetti sliding out of her mouth, and Lexa surprisingly finds it endearing rather than disgusting.

She finds many things about Clarke endearing, and she doesn’t really hate herself for that. Clarke _is_ a loveable person, she’s quite literally everyone’s favourite person and for some reason she fears that she is starting to become hers too. Maybe she feels some kind of gratitude for actually wanting to pursue a friendship, even though she is still questioning why anyone would really ever want to be her friend.

Lexa isn’t stupid. She knows that she is perhaps the most unpleasant person to be around; she’s broody, intimidating and highly evasive when it comes to socialising. She’s a bore. No one would want to be friends with a bore, and that was exactly how she wanted it to be after Costia’s death.

Clarke kind of ruined things, but the truth is; she’s not really unhappy about that.

“Hey Lex?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.” Clarke’s smile is so genuine, so _real_ ; that she can’t help but smile back. “You’ve really been-” She frowns for a second, “Here, I guess. You’ve been here for me without even wanting to be.”

“I did want to be there for you.”

“Well.” She looks at her for a second, and nods, “I know that now.”

“Why would you think that I wouldn’t have wanted to?”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow and she shrugs, “You’re hard to read. Sometimes I felt like I was a massive inconvenience to you, so I was just not really sure if you wanted to listen to this stuff.”

She knows Clarke didn’t say that to make her feel bad, but she had already been ‘feeling bad’ anyway, because even though she would continue to believe that the majority of human beings are mindless idiots with greed and selfish agenda’s being their only interest; some were actually worth it. Clarke, could be one of them. She wasn’t sure yet, but maybe, something started ticking inside of Lexa to just give her a chance.

“I come off like that on purpose.” She bites her lip, instantly realising how bitchy that sounds, “For really absurd reasons you don’t honestly want to know about; but I don’t want to come off like that anymore.”

“At least not with you.”

The addition slips out of her mouth like it was meant to be a part of that sentence in the first place. But it wasn’t. _It wasn’t_.

Clarke’s eyes are looking straight at her, unwavering, clinging to her desperately. “Why not?”

“Because.” She stops and grabs her bearings once again, trying her best not to get too sucked into their conversation. Kind of like she always does. “Because, you’re good a person, Clarke. _Good_ , like few people are nowadays.”

“I’m not sure I really am.” She replies instantly, eyes now boring deeply into the floor. “I’m a disaster, Lexa. And I don’t mean that in the way people think that its somehow intriguing, or mysterious. I mean, I am a fucking disaster and sometimes I truly feel like people should stay far away from me.”

“Would you believe me if I said I understand where you’re coming from?”

She scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you!” She exclaims, “You always seem to have everything so put together, you’re always so freaking gracious and responsible and you always know what the hell you’re doing when you’re doing it.” She exhales roughly and shakes her head, “It’s not that I don’t think you have problems, I’m not stupid; I see those sad eyes and I see the way they drag over everything. I know you’ve got some big deep sorrow inside of you, but you know how to keep moving on in your life. I don’t. I have been stuck. Since my dad left this earth I have been fucking stuck.”

There are tears that are falling now. There are tears that are breaking Lexa’s heart as she watches them trail down Clarke’s cheeks. There are tears that she feels, can drown the both of them whole.

“Then Finn fucked off.” She chokes out a bitter laugh and wipes her eyes viscously, “And all I have is myself. This stupid lifeless body full of regret and terror and mistakes. My best friends are probably in love with each other and they don’t even know it, which means I have to deal with all the bullshit in between every time they fight.” Her hands flail upwards, “Oh and of course my other best friend is off in another state and the only way I get to talk to him is over a fucking software!”

“My mum doesn’t even want to mention his _name_ , Lexa.” Her eyes lock with Lexa’s in that moment; still tear stained, still sadder than she had ever seen them. “She hasn’t even spoken to me since yesterday. Nothing. Zilch. It’s like I don’t fucking exist. We’ve never been the same since, and everything, all of this, is just fucking tragic.” Her breaths are shorter than ever, hands rubbing her eyes and chest heaving. “I don’t know how much longer I can wake up and pretend I’m not broken by all of this. I don’t even know why I’m pretending in the first place.”

Sometimes, words are not really ever enough to heal someone. Perhaps, they never really are. Maybe, half of the time; words are just an illusion, a way for people to keep thinking that there is something solid in the world, when there really isn’t. Lexa used to tell herself everyday, had to remind herself that there was nothing constant in the world she lived in. Life and death. They were certain. Concrete. All that could possibly lie between them were a conglomeration of random events that led to an eventual fleeting of the soul. And then that was it. You would be gone. Forgotten.

People who challenge this truth do not exist. That was what she knew. That was exactly what she knew, was _true_. Except, here in front of her was the only person to ever look her in the eyes and challenge her truth, without ever even knowing it existed in the first place.

The more she looked at Clarke, the more she felt her walls break down bit by bit. This girl, this girl who thought that she was the unmovable object and the irresistable force all in one. This girl who clearly thinks _she is more than she really is_. She wants to tell her all the reasons why she isn’t any of those things, and not to prove her wrong. Not in anyway to do that. Only to enfold her in the knowledge that she knows, _she knows_ , exactly what she means. That Clarke’s words are Lexa’s entire life. That Clarke, is inexplainably the most astounding person she has ever met in her life, because she is so much more than she even knows. So much more than anyone ever knows.

“That’s the thing Clarke.” She doesn’t know why her hands are itching to hold Clarke’s, she wishes they wouldn’t. “Your stupid lifeless body full of regret, terror and mistakes is the only thing that you will ever see. You’re never going to see the things that have made people smile, those beautiful moments where you have touched people in places they have never ever known to have existed before.”

“Do you want to know how I know that, Clarke?” Lexa says her name as if it is her favourite book, her favourite thought at the end of the day, the one that calms you down for just a second. “Because that’s exactly what you’ve done with me.”

Clarke doesn’t need to say much to show Lexa that she is confused. Lexa can see it in the way Clarke’s hands loosen their grip on her fork. The way her eyes almost stride left to right in the slightest of movements. That’s how she knows there is no going back now. She has to tell her. She has to tell her everything.

“Almost a year ago, my girlfriend was killed.” Maybe she could have said that better. Or maybe she couldn’t have. There was no other way to put it, nothing more or less poetic that could have glamourised the death of the most effortlessly kind person on this earth. “She was so young.” Her breath is not really in rhythm with her speech, and Clarke knows this. “I can’t bare to think about how young she was anymore. Or how beautiful. Or how fucking horrible it is that she is dead the way she is dead. The way I wasn’t there when she died. The way I should have just fucking insisted that she got a cab to mine.”

“Jesus Christ.” Clarke rubs her forehead in distress, her eyes are crazed, full of _more_ unshed tears, and for the first time in twelve whole months Lexa just wants to join in and cry herself. “How?”

Lexa sniffles quickly, “A mugging gone violent. I found out later they were mostly all incredibly drunk, beyond possible, logical, thought.” She scoffs, “And Costia. Costia just had to put up a fight.” She wishes that that could still be a reedeming quality, but it just wasn’t quite that anymore. “Things got heated, I heard a gun shot. Then I just ran.”

Her breathing is definitely not synced up with her speech anymore. In fact, it is quite possible that she is just not even breathing at this point anymore. Not even existing. “I ran without thinking. I ran because I just knew she was involved somehow. I ran for nothing, because she was dead, and after that maybe I was just that too.”

“What happened to _you_ then?”

“What do you think?” She replies, “I turned into this empty shell. I ignored Anya and Lincoln completely, left my Uncle Gus to all his wittering worries and sent meaningless sentimental emails to her parents. I haven’t even gone to see them since. I’m horrible.”

Clarke sighs, “You’re not horrible Lexa.”

“I lived my life in solitude. I forgot that everyone else loved her possibly just as much as I did.” She shrugs, “I was selfish. How is that not horrible?”

“People deal with whatever they have to deal with in different ways.” She sighs, again, “You just dealt with it the only way you really know how.”

Lexa frowns, “By being an utter and complete bitch to you and everyone else for no reason?”

“No.” She says firmly, “By being guarded because the one person you loved so dearly was killed and you feel responsible. You feel like you are the one that is horrible but what is really horrible, _who_ is honestly horrible, are those disastrous group of people who took away the life of an innocent girl.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. She knows that she’s right, maybe that’s why she doesn’t.

“They didn’t even manage to incarcerate all of them. Some of them; most of them are walking on a street as we speak.” Lexa shakes her head in disbelief, and feels the distaste of the subject poisoning her tongue. It had been so long, _so long_ , since she had even uttered her name to anyone else. “What more can I say? My mother died giving birth to me, my dad was most probably not even present after the night him and my mum concieved me, and my aunt who I loved more than I could have ever known died in front of me from a sudden aneurysm when I was just six years old.”

“It’s like im cursed. Death is a surrounding force in everyone’s life, you know? But loss?” Her eyes close shut, as if she could just shut the world of itself for a second. Just, a second.

“Loss is a surrounding one in _mine_.”

Clarke blinks, nostrils flared; “Lexa, you’re not cursed.” Her hands no longer itch to hold Clarke’s anymore, because Clarke seems to read her mind and hold them both in hers. “You’re a survivor, because in spite of all the horrible shit you’ve witnessed, and all the people who you have lost; you’re here today with me. Telling me all this. _I know_ how hard that is.” She smiles again, that damned smile that gets Lexa through the worst of times. “You’re the one that keeps on living, Lexa.”

The thing about words, was that sometimes they weren’t just an illusion. Sometimes they hit you in the most concrete places, in ways only the realest of things ever possibly can.

“Honestly, that sounds like the cheesy dialogue someone exchanges with their therapist.”

“And?”

“And.” Lexa finally smiles back, “I don’t want to kill you for it.”

**

“So what did he do then? When he found out you were literally hoarding all those chocolate wrappers under your bed?”

Clarke laughs and it fills up her whole voice when she does. “He stared at me for around ten seconds and then laughed his fucking ass off.” She keeps laughing, and frankly finds it quite hard to stop. “I mean, I was seven years old right? So I was just listening to Bellamy’s bullshit when he said that if I kept enough chocolate wrappers, they’d all magically be whole again and full of chocolate.” She shakes her head in disbelief, “I was a really dumb seven year old.”

Lexa nods fervently and bursts out laughing, “I would have never fallen for that. Ever.”

“Okay.” She rolls her eyes at her, “Anyway, my dad laughed so hard my mum had to come upstairs too. Then they were both just laughing at me, and I was extremely frustrated at this point because I was _so_ confused as to why they were laughing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah!” She licks her lips and starts smiling some more, “So I just got the chocolate wrappers, and stuffed them in his face and told him, ‘ _Don’t laugh okay? These are all going to be chocolates one day. All of them. And I won’t even give you any_.’”

“Then he kind of just looked at my mum with these wide eyes and they both tried to take me seriously, because I was getting majorly pissed off.” She makes a funny face and resumes her story, “And this is why he was kind of amazing. He just played along with it, to the point where he literally went and bought all the chocolates that I stored as wrappers, and I mean _all_ of them. To their exact number, all the different ones, and stored them under my bed whilst I was asleep, so that I could wake up the next day and find them all there.”

Lexa’s smile is bigger than she had ever possibly imagined it could be, and it meant everything in that moment; to be able to talk about her dad and just _be_. “That’s adorable.”

“It honestly was.” She was getting a little too sucked into the memory of her dad, and she wasn’t quite unhappy about that. “I worked out that it was him eventually, but it didn’t really matter in the end. It meant the world to me anyway. Even if it was just over a bunch of chocolates, you know?”

“I do know.”

Clarke looks back up at Lexa, “Your turn.”

“Okay.” Lexa rolls her eyes in hesitation, “Costia and I had officially been together since we were 14, but unofficially we kind of always _were_ together. We were childhood best friends, we discovered we probably liked each other more than we should have, when we were eleven and the rest was just kind of a mesh of a lot of great, amazing things.”

“But we were kids living in the straightest school possible so we obviously had gotten a few comments along the way. Not even bad ones, just innocent and good hearted questions which we literally never had the answer to right?” Clarke feels a warmth grow in her chest as she watches Lexa revel in her past, with a smile. “So one day she comes up to me, (please note we were in the seventh grade), and just looks at me frantically and I’m staring at her and wondering what on earth is wrong.”

She sucks in her lower lip as if to hold herself back from laughing and twiddles a strand of hair in her fingers, “She just stares back up at me, and whispers; ‘ _Julie from miss Roberta’s class asked me if we’re lesbian_ s’.” Her eyes crinkle upwards at the memory, lip still sucked in. “Then she just paused for a second, looked down at the floor, then up back at me and just stood there with her lip trembling whilst she shot out her question. ‘ _What’s a lesbian_?’”

Clarke couldn’t hold her laughter back in, and she realised she wasn’t supposed to as she watched Lexa let out a hearty laugh of her own.

She thought maybe she’d be jealous about all of this really, watching Lexa laugh like she had never before around Clarke and all because of _her_. Costia. Except, Clarke is so far from jealousy, because the only thing she can see right now is that in this moment – Lexa is happy. Lexa is smiling and her eyes are so beautiful when they smile along with her lips. Like a beautiful symphony in the canonical arpreggio of an orchestra. The music that makes her escape from her life, and walk a little around Lexa’s. She is in a completely different place around Lexa, and it’s always so much more complicated than the last.

“She didn’t know what a lesbian was? _Seriously_?”

“I _told_ you, straightest school possible.” Her eyes are still shining, glowing and full of life for once. “I had to explain it to her, which she can forever thank Anya for because I wouldn’t have known what that word meant either if it weren’t for her.”

Clarke smiles, letting a silence fall between them momentarily. Specifically, because she cannot help but look at Lexa without appreciating her. She is falling into a dangerous game, Clarke knows this. Lexa is special. Clarke doesn’t need to spend a whole twenty four hours with her to take note of this, she is sure somehow she always had a feeling that she’d end up here with her.

Just like this, with them sitting down and her boring her eyes into all she can get of Lexa, just because she knows she’ll miss it when she leaves. Just because she knows she’ll feel completely more lost in her essence the second she walks out of that door. If she lets herself think about that now, she’ll never really stop.

“This should feel so strange, shouldn’t it?”

Lexa’s voice emerges from the silence like a soft almost-whisper. It calms Clarke’s raging thoughts and allows her to look at Lexa without her heart tearing up inside of her. At least for the moment.

“Why should it?”

She shifts in her position, and turns herself a little more into Clarke’s direction. “Well. Maybe because we’re talking about our dead loved ones and laughing about it?”

“Oh?” Clarke pokes her cheek with her tongue, “Isn’t that your typical Sunday evening?”

She shakes her head with a slight smirk and turns away from Clarke, getting up to find her phone.

“Hey.” Clarke clears her throat, wondering why her heart feels as if it is tugging at her throat. Clinging to it. She thinks, that she desperately wants to stay here. With Lexa. Just for now. Just a little longer. “What where you going to say about me helping you?” Realising how sudden and absurd that sounded she comes up with a quick save, “I’ve just been pondering, looking back at our conversation and I think I kind of cut you off at one point.”

Lexa looks down at her and frowns momentarily, but seems to put the pieces together. “Oh, sorry.” She seems to forget about her phone and sits back down next to her. _Success_. Clarke almost doesn’t care about the shamefulness she feels about thinking that. “I got all caught up in the story.” She clears her throat, “I just wanted to tell you that you helped me get out of that a little.”

“Out of what?”

“ _The story_. Her. Myself.” She shrugs, “I didn’t even want to admit it to myself at first, and knowing me in a couple of days I’ll despise myself for telling you about her. For telling you _this_ , even.” Her eyes drift listlessly towards the floor, “It’s just how I am recently. Full of hatred and guilt.”

Clarke aches for her. Wants to tell her that she should never be full of hatred and guilt, because she thinks that she’s beautiful. Unique, a phenomenon. But Lexa will never care for her opinion. Why would she care about what Clarke thinks of her when the only person’s opinion she cares for is dead and gone in a place so lonely not even Clarke herself can bare to think of it?

“You make me feel like I should actually leave my house. Engage in something other than the books that could define my career.” Her breath hitches for a second, “You were right about me though.”

“How so?”

“I am the one that always keeps surviving.” Her eyes are sad now. Like they were sad before, like they were back to looking dead and gone and lost. Except with a little hint of something she can’t really put her finger on. “But you were wrong too.”

Clarke says nothing.

“I wasn’t the one who kept on living, because somewhere along the way I stopped living. I barely existed. It’s like having something stripped away from you, day by day, week by week, month by month until it doesn’t really matter how long it’s been because you just feel empty. I never grew up and had everything. But I never really expected to have nothing, and for a long while I felt like that was all I had.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Lexa stops for a second. Looks at the floor for a while, then the table still left over with bits of red stained napkins. Then back at her. At Clarke. “Now it feels like I can smile and know what it means to say that it reaches my whole freaking body.”

**

She’s been staring at Clarke for a while now. Wondering how the hell she was admitting these things to herself, let alone Clarke. But Clarke was Clarke, and Lexa was too tired to think about all the disastrous ways this could blow up in her face.

“It’s late.” Her eyes dart to Clarke, her face looking somewhat sullen. “I should get back home, check if Raven and Octavia invited any rando’s to our place.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

Clarke shrugs, “Right now, I don’t really know what I want.”

It’s a weird comment. Something Lexa feels, wasn’t supposed to come out in the first place. On any other occasion she’d choose to ignore it; but after today, she feels like she could never really ignore Clarke again.

“Sleep here.”

“What?”

“Sleep here.” She repeats herself. _Surprises_ herself.

“Why?”

“Because you’re _sad_.” Lexa feels herself gravitate towards Clarke, watching the way her blue eyes gain a little bit of life as she says that. “You shouldn’t go home sad.”

“What’s going to change between now and next morning Lexa?”

“Nothing.” She sighs, “I guess I just don’t really like the idea of you leaving like this.”

There’s a flicker of something in Clarke, her lips part and she is staring at Lexa with confusion. Bewildering confusion.

“Alright.” There’s a question in her tone, but she seems to accept it and rest her bag on the floor again. “Thank you, Lexa. For everything.”

It takes a sweltering few minutes for Lexa to realise that she is so sure about something now. Something that she has always known in the deepest moments by herself. Or something that she has truly never really ‘known’, but _felt_.

Her eyes are closed now. Head touching gently upon her pillow, and she can’t really sleep because she is stuck thinking about how she can hear Clarke shifting in the bed across her. She is quite sure in this moment, that she can hear Clarke’s uneven breaths filling up the space between them, and she is _certain_ that all she wants to do is be closer. Stop the uneven breaths, and fill up the space between them by there being absolutely no space at all. For some reason Lexa isn’t horrified by these thoughts, nor surprised by them.

The itch is no longer in just her hands anymore, it’s everywhere. She wants Clarke here, with her. She can feel it in the back of her eyelids, burning, daring not to open them. The truth is, she is so tired of hating herself, _tired tired tired_. What was the point in hating herself for this? She should have expected it the second she watched in awe as Clarke shooed away that stupid old woman. That stupid old caramel drizzle.

“Lexa?”

She forgot to hear the thudding. The little footsteps, so cautious in their movement. She revels in the whisper. Revels in the soft hushed down smell of Clarke.

“Are you awake?”

Lexa’s eyes fling open, but her head is still turned away from Clarke. She humms sleepily in response, Clarke would never be able to tell that she was in fact, wide awake.

“I know you’ve done enough already, but I can’t sleep on that bed.” She can hear a hitch in Clarke’s breath, “It’s cold and hard and rough, and it’s too late to go home now.” There’s a nervous itch and a sigh. “I feel so stupid asking this-”

“Come.” She makes it sound as rough as possible, tries, for the life of her to refrain from showing Clarke that she was waiting for her to do this all along.

There’s a slow descent of the bed and then it stabilizes. Then Lexa stabilizies. Clarke’s uneven breaths are so close to her now, it makes her shiver involuntarily. She decides to turn around, face her, maybe say something. Maybe say nothing.

Clarke’s eyes, however dark in the room, show. They are big and wide, seemingly trying to decipher Lexa.

They stare for a little, in silence. Their soft uneven breaths growing more so by the second. She feels her heart burst in anticipation. Tugging and tugging. Waiting and waiting.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Lexa wants to tell her that she is too. But she doubts that they share the same fear.

“Tomorrow.” Clarke’s hands fidget under the covers, “And the day after that. And all the days, every single one of them.”

Lexa finally closes her eyes, and exhales. “Then you can be scared with me. I’m always scared.” Her hand reaches for Clarkes, and she squeezes. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn’t care.

“Always?”

Clarke’s hands are warm in hers, and that is all that matters.

“Always.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything blows up, in everyone's faces

For the next three weeks, that was all that really happened.

They slept near each other as if it was something they had been doing for ages. Sometimes there was silence, sometimes Lexa would notice Clarke scooting closer to her, so close, that she could feel the breath on her neck and it was infuriatingly tempting to just _do something_.

Lexa also noticed a few things, firstly, how much she wishes she didn’t hate the nights Clarke wasn’t with her, and secondly, how often it was that Clarke _would_ be with her. She never really spoke of it much, but it seemed like she had never really gotten back on track with Raven and Octavia since the first time she came over.

The problem was ultimately, that she had no problem.

Lexa Woods, was uncharacteristically calm about all of this. By uncharactersitically, she meant that there should have been some kind of explosion going on inside her mind. _How could she let herself like someone else after Costia? How could she ever, in any way possible let this happen?_

Except, she could just think about Clarke for one second and realise that none of these questions really mattered. What did she expect meeting someone like Clarke? And what did she honestly expect when Costia died? That she’d never look at someone in that way ever again? Lexa was many things, and one of those many things was a human being. It was bound to happen.

It still was a problem of course, for starters she didn’t even know if Clarke even swung that way, and secondly Lexa had baggage _besides_ Costia. She liked to paint out her relationship with Costia to be a blissful journey into eternity but the truth was, there were times Costia just couldn’t really deal with her. Times where Costia was so close to leaving her, so close to just closing their book and not dealing with her bullshit anymore.

Sometimes, Lexa thinks she’d still be alive if she did that. 

Anyway, there was no point mulling over the past anymore. Meeting Clarke was a big wake up call, it slapped her sensless; not out of grief; but out of the pit she was building around herself. There was just no point to closing off the people closest to her anymore, if she was honestly going to try reach some kind of contention in her life – she needed to make at least _some_ kind of effort.

She was trying. She really was.

It was just harder now. Because Clarke was just too much sometimes. Clarke was special, in ways Lexa couldn’t really write down, or speak of. Those details were laced in the way she would talk or look at Lexa, the way Lexa herself witnessed Clarke speaking to others. Admittedly, Lexa would find herself staring at Clarke from across the counter numerous amount of times, because Clarke was just awe struckingly alluring. She put everyone at ease, and Lexa – as much as she hated to admit it - was part of the ‘everyone’.

Such a big part of it.

Lexa loved it when Clarke was around, she soaked up everything she could of her. Sometimes they would do nothing but study and read in each other’s presence and it just felt _right_. What more could she say to that? What more could she go be angry at herself for? For falling for someone who made the grooves in her life smoother? It was just out of her hands. This _whole_ situation, completely out of her hands.

Her thoughts were uncontrollably surrounding Clarke perhaps constantly, seeing as her dreams were plagued with Clarke. Always Clarke. It set something off in Lexa, to fully accept that there was some kind of gravity pulling them towards each other. Everything, _even_ her name, had found its way into some kind of sacred creviss in her brain.

Sometimes she thought about the excuses Clarke would make when she would wordlessly crawl into bed next to her. Sometimes she wondered if there was something more to it. 

_Lexa didn’t need to open her eyes to know Clarke was finding her way next to her again. She didn’t even want to open her eyes, it made the fact that she was once again, waiting for her to do that even more obvious. At least to herself._

_“Sorry, it’s just.” Clarke’s breath hitches for a second, “Cold there, it’s winter now you know?”_

_Lexa’s eyes remain closed. She tries to pretend she’s asleep._

_“I know you’re awake.”_

_Shit._

_Her eyes open this time, and settle on Clarke’s face. Clarke was studying her, kind of like she always was. It made Lexa want to wrack her brains for the information Clarke was collecting about her. What did she honestly think of her? Why did she care so much?_

_“Does it bother you that I come here so often?”_

_She turns to face Clarke and exhales softly. “If it did, you’d know it.”_

_“It feels good to be around you.”_

_She smiles in spite of herself. In spite of all the reasons she probably shouldn’t._

_“Why does it feel good?”_

_For a second she witnesses Clarke swallow roughly at the comment, her eyes full, hesitant and aware. The moment passes however, and Clarke seems to be back to her calm, collected self. “You’re becoming my best friend.”_

_“Actually, scratch that, you are my bestfriend.” Her eyes are glimmering, and she’s smiling and Lexa is so, so, invested in this girl. More than she knows she ever can be. “But sometimes you feel like more than that you know?”_

_She coughs, “As in.” Her eyebrows furrow for a second, “I don’t know. You’re special to me. You’re the one person I look forward to seeing right now, admittedly more than anyone.” She shrugs and lies on her back, “Maybe because everyone else in my life sucks at the moment.”_

_Lexa just continues staring. She hated getting lost in thinking about how beautiful Clarke was, and she hated how much she was doing it now._

_Clarke turns over to face her, still smiling. “You’re fucking weird, you know that right?”_

_“Wow.” She rolls her eyes. “So first I’m special, and now I’m weird? Pick an adjective Clarke.”_

_She chuckles in response, and traces a finger lightly on her cheek. This turns Lexa rigid for a second, but she finds herself involuntarily softening to the touch soon after. It felt good. Everything felt good around her. Clarke’s hand lightly cups around her jaw, and she feels her thumb brushing over her cheek lightly. “I just mean that you have this weird effect on me.”_

_This was just getting strange. She wasn’t really sure what Clarke was trying to say at this point, and she really just wanted her to shut up so that she could sleep. She also really didn’t want her to do that, because this was Clarke, caressing her cheek like it was the most natural thing she had ever done this whole time._

_“If i’m next to you, things are automatically okay.” She’s not smiling anymore, now she just looks confused. Dazed and confused. “Like, hey, I’m fighting with my two favourite people in the world, and I’m devestated. But everytime I’m with you it’s like it’s a problem for another day, you know? That’s why I come over so often. You’re like an escape for me.”_

_Well, what in the world was she supposed to say to that?_

_Maybe, for once; just this once._

_The truth._

_“Yes.” Lexa feels herself nodding to sleep, Clarke’s hand still cupped around her. “I think that’s why I never mind you coming over so often in the first place.”_

After that night, Clarke never bothered to try and sleep in the other bed, she went straight into Lexa’s. And Lexa never commented, never retorted. She never said anything. She knew that in some way, they were both treading on thin ace.

And that neither of them, really cared.

**

“You and Clarke are real close now, huh?”

Lexa shoots her a look across their table, “An. Don’t start. Not today.”

Much to Lexa’s surprise, it seemed that Anya did not have some kind of agenda to her conversation starter, “I’m not!” She raises her hands feigning a ‘surrender’ and sighs, “I’m just wondering, because you seem...lighter? I think?”

She digs into her salad and shrugs, “We have things in common, I guess.” Soon after however, she decides that she should probably take advantage of the rare mood Anya is in, and talk.

“I told her about Costia.”

Anya coughs loudly and continously enough to grab an unhealthy amount of looks towards their table. “I’m sorry.” She clears her throat and closes her eyes momentarily, “ _What?_ ”

“Do _not_ make a big deal out of this.”

“Oh yeah!” She angrily stabs a piece of chicken in her salad and stuffs it into her mouth, “Sorry! I really tend to over react when my cousin spends 12 months in her room not talking, not eating and not sleeping right after her girlfriend of a bajillion years is killed, and then out of the blue tells me this rando girl I know close to nothing about, suddenly has more knowledge than I do on the subject.”

Lexa sighs and rubs her eyes, “I didn’t say she knows more than you do about what happened to her, she just knows.”

“Mhm, I’m sure.” She keeps on eating so angrily that Lexa fears she might soon stab _her_ with the fork instead. “You don’t even know her, Lex. How the hell did she get it out of you?”

“She didn’t ‘get anything’ out of me.” Lexa’s frustration was starting to grow, and she was immediately regretting saying anything in the first place. “And I do know her, okay? At least well enough to know that I can trust her.”

Lexa starts angrily eating her salad too.

“Anyway.” She munches vicously and swallows her food, “Shouldn’t you be happy or something? That I’m ‘opening up’?”

“Not to the right people, Lexa.”

“Excuse me?” She laughs and shakes her head, “You’re just mad because it’s not you.”

Anya looks up at her and for a second Lexa almost feels badly, because something inside of her cousin is hurt, and she might just be the reason it’s there in the first place. “Can you honestly blame me?” She puts her fork down and sighs, “Do you know how hard Lincoln and I have been trying to somehow get you out of this? Or get you to talk in any way? We’ve lost sleep over it, Lex. We’ve lost a lot of things over it, and it’s fine because you’re _family_ , that’s what we do for each other.”

The guilt seeps into her like a cancer.

“Look.” She takes Lexa’s hands into her own quickly and squeezes. “I’m honestly happy that you’ve found someone you can talk to, and as much as I wish it was me or Lincoln, it’s not. I trust your judgement, I do. She’s not the problem.” She lets go of her hands and starts getting her things together. “All I’m saying is it wouldn’t kill you to let us know if you’re okay sometimes, I think we deserve that, at the very least.”

She stands up and tucks her chair into the table, “I’ve got class in five minutes, I’ll see you whenever you decide you want to be seen.”

With that, Lexa is left by herself, with the bitter remnants of regret.

**

Lexa was right.

She was used to always being right.

Or at the very least, the slightest redeeming quality in her being wrong sometimes; was that she was reasonable. She was everything until Costia died.

Now it seems all she really is, is the ungrateful cousin who has spent a whole year shutting everyone out, including the people who should matter to her the most. She was always losing perspective, and never gaining it back.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes shift towards Bellamy, who was watching her tentatively with the slightest of smirks on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for my cappucino for the last five seconds, it only takes two at starbucks and I’m highly unsatisfied with the service.” He taps the bare flesh on his wrist, “Time’s up lady.”

“ _Lady_?” She scoffs, “Your imitations are terribly worrying, Bellamy.”

He laughs and yawns, “Cappucino _please_ , this yawning thing needs to stop if I’m expected to hand in my assignment by tomorrow morning.”

She grabs the cup and begins making his cappucino, “You do realise you’d be better off with Coffee, right?”

“Do you want those three dollar tips I always give you?”

“Of course.”

He frowns momentarily, “Then shut up.”

Lexa hands him his steaming hot cappucino, “Here you go, _sir._ ”

“Finally!” He grabs the cup carefully and brings it to his lips as he continues to read through his assignment, and Lexa watches him with the slightest bit of adoration.

Bellamy was often the highlight of her work day, considering he kept her company and studied at Grounders most of the time (honestly she had no idea how she did it), he was slowly edging his way into her life too. So many people were, and yet here she was, shutting out Anya and Lincoln like it meant nothing.

It was wrong.

“You okay?”

She turns to look at him and smiles for a quick moment, “Yeah, busy day.”

“Busy day?” He looks around the shop and turns back to her, “There’s barely anyone here.”

“Oh trust me.” She looks at the time on her phone and sighs, “It’s about to be a whole lot busier, _very_ soon.”

Just as he was about to inquire as to why; Clarke jostles between them and groans with her head in her hands.

“It’s rush hour soon and I am _so_ not ready for it.” She then looks at Bellamy and squints at him, “Why are you even here Bell?”

He shrugs, “Lexa’s a good study partner.”

“We are not studying.”

“Technically.” He clears his throat, “You’re the one being _studied_ by Clarke, judging by the amounts of times she’s ogled you in the last hour.”

“ _Bell_!” Clarke almost shouts through gritted teeth, and to Lexa’s surprise, she witnesses him recieving a big slap on the head. “ _You’re an ass_.”

She rolls her eyes and walks away hastily, all whilst Bellamy laughs at her. “I’m going to keep doing that until she admits that she likes you.”

“Why do all of you keep insisting that something is going on between us?” She says this with the utmost conviction, but truly, her throat was close to closing up with the excitement she’d felt from hearing that silly statement.

“Heads up.”

Lexa watches as customer after customer stumble in to the coffee shop, and prepares herself for the worst. She was awfully horrible at dealing with customers, especially the ones that came in during rush hour.

Working in catering was not quite the same as working anywhere else; it’s precisely the human equivalent to being a walking punching bag. Lexa did not quite like being treated like a punching bag, and it became even more obvious, during every rush hour, that she was clearly very out of line telling Clarke off that one time.

An hour, three burnt fingers and five complaints later, it seemed that the worst was almost over.

_Almost._

“Have you got any fucking idea on how to actually do your job lady?”

The loud voice catches Lexa off guard, and she finds herself staring at a very angry (and little) man who was bending over the counter and blatantly swearing in Clarke’s direction.

“As you can see sir, you aren’t the only one with a pending order here.” Clarke sighs, “We’re slightly understaffed today, you’ll have to wait a couple more minutes.”

“For fucks sake!” He bangs his fist on the counter, “I ordered an americano, not the worlds hardest fucking coffee to make now is it?”

Clarke walks closer towards him and frowns, “If you keep raising your voice, I’m going to have to regretfully ask you to leave.”

Lexa watches as the man’s face scrunches up in anger. It was almost like watching a little tomato dry up, he had rough, sharp features and his anger made him even more unpleasant to look at. She didn’t like where their conversation was headed, and for some absurd reason, she felt fear encompass her.

“Listen, you _bitch_.” His finger points down on the counter in one hard motion, “You can regretfully do whatever the fuck you want, I want my coffee.”

“Get out.”

He scoffs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I said, _get out_.” Clarke’s hands are balled up into fists, and Lexa fears that this might get more heated than their usual complaints.

“You are one fucking cunt, do you know that?” He shakes his head and after a while of circling the same spot, he spits on her.

It seemed, that in that moment, the only actual fear Lexa had been feeling had dissapated to the bottom of the bottomless pit she found herself living in. Truly, because the only thing Lexa felt in that moment, was rage. Unwarranted, uncalled for, rage.

“HEY!” Lexa swiftly walks in front of the counter and pushes the man away roughly. “Back off.”

“Lexa.” Clarke grabs her arm and looks at her carefully, “Stop.”

She turns to look at Clarke for a second and shakes her off.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I think I should be asking you that.” She moves closer to him, realising she easily has at least another two inches over him. “ _Leave_.”

Bellamy had made his way next to her and was watching her with concerned etched all over his face. “Okay, lets stop this.” His glance switches between her and the man, “Now.”

“Tell this bitch to mind her own business, and I will.”

“Listen.” Bellamy gruffly intervenes, “Those two girls you keep referring to as ‘bitches’ are my friends, and if you keep referring to them as such, I will personally see to it that you’ll be the only ‘bitch’ walking out of here.”

He laughs a bitter laugh and in a moment swings his whole body over the counter seemingly trying to grab Clarke’s shirt. Lexa, however, grabs the man from the collar at the back of his neck and skillfully drags him out of the shop, closing the doors behind him.

She wipes her hands on her apron and nods at the bewildered customers left inside the shop, “Sorry about that minor inconvenience, your orders will be seen to shortly.”

Turning her back to the counter, she sees Clarke staring at her, mouth slightly parted. She looks away quickly, and resorts to cleaning the counter instead.

Lexa however, can feel Bellamy’s eyes boring into her skull and after a couple of minutes she finally looks up at him.

He continues to eye her carefully, as if he was studying her, and shakes his head slightly as he moves closer towards her to tell her something quietly.

“ _That’s_ why, Lexa.”

**

Clarke would like to shut off the inner depths of her mind mainly, because they play tricks on her. They also are a great reason as to why she is staring at her clock -its spindly red lines reading ‘2 AM’- instead of sleeping.

She could also blame Lexa for this.

She could blame Lexa, for everything.

The truth was, that every day she woke up and thought the same things. Felt the same pain, and fell asleep with the same thoughts.

Her thoughts were unbashedly surrounding Lexa’s entire existence. Her eyes search for her in a crowd she knows she’ll never spot her in, and her mind, her heart, all they do is bloom her into presence in every corner, in every parchment on paper, everything quite frankly, becomes her.

Tonight, for example, she’ll fall asleep questioning whatever in the world posessed Lexa to have such an absurd reaction.

Sometimes, Clarke would regret fully let herself think about the possibility of Lexa reciprocating her feelings, maybe because of moments like today. Or moments where she catches the softest of glances, the hardest of stares, moments where she wishes she could know whatever the hell she could possibly be thinking about.

Either way, Clarke knew that Lexa was probably a bad idea. Clarke _and_ Lexa were a bad idea, simply because they were both too damaged to put up with even the _idea_ of each other. As friends, they were brilliant, as lovers, they would be terrible.

And even. _Even_ if the idea of them wouldn’t be so horrifyingly wrong, there would be Costia. Costia, the one Lexa will forever hold in her heart; she will never think of Clarke the way she thought of her.

There are people out there worth loving, worth loving you, and Clarke just needed to convince herself that Lexa was none of those things. Lexa was magnetising and powerful but she was wrong. She was wrong, because Clarke had never felt this way before, because this feeling of tainted love kicks away the pain of her lost love from Finn, and that alone is too much for Clarke to handle.

Tonight however, she decided otherwise.

_Clarke 2:30 AM – Remember that one night where I had told you I wanted to draw you? Can that happen, like, tomorrow?_

It wasn’t truly an excuse to talk to Lexa, just one to draw her without feeling guilty for doing so without her consent. (She was terribly embarassed considering she had sketches over sketches of Lexa’s considerably beautiful features, the way her soft wintery coats hung over her like they were meant for her, sometimes just the way her hands interlaced with each other, she wishes she could stop. She really does.)

_Lexa 2:35 AM – Should I be more concerned with the fact that you are up at this time of the night, or that you are thinking about drawing me at this time of the night?_

The reply is so unforgiveably transparent that it subsequently sets a deep red blush along Clarke’s cheeks. She can feel herself visibly crumbling as she tries to type something adequate back, there is nothing more or less she can say that will somehow shift the power back to Clarke. Lexa almost always the power.

 _Clarke 2:37 AM – Lexa, there are a multitude of people who have been bugging my ass for a portrait, and you have me, here, this beautiful incredibly inspirational artist offering my effortless talent . You_ _should be flattered._

_Clarke 2:38 AM – Think of it as my personal thank you for today._

She bites her lip in apprehension. This is stupid. She’s rambling again.

_Lexa 2:39 AM – You don’t owe me a thank you, Clarke._

If she could just shut up and put her out of her misery, Clarke could possibly be sleeping by now.

_Clarke 2:40 AM – Yes, I do. Now accept the damn offer._

_Lexa 2:41 AM – I am accepting the ‘damn’ offer, but not the thank you._

Honestly, what an insufferable human being.

_Clarke 2:41 AM – Do you ever shut up?_

_Lexa 2:41 AM – Excuse me?_

_Lexa 2:41 - That’s my line._

_Clarke 2:42 AM – I am this close to calling it quits on our friendship._

_Lexa 2:43 AM – Seeing as this is a text conversation, I can’t really see how close you are to anything, unfortunately._

_Clarke 2:43 AM – That’s it. Goodbye._

_Lexa 2:44 AM – What time?_

_Clarke 2:44 AM – What time am I degrading our friendship to barely a mere acquaintence? Now._

_Lexa 2:45 AM – Can you at least move that till tomorrow? I am suddenly intrigued with the whole idea of having my face on a piece of paper._

If only she knew how many pieces of paper her face had actually been drawn onto already.

_Clarke 2:46 AM – Do you have another lecture after English lit tomorrow?_

_Lexa 2:47 AM – I do not._

_Clarke 2:47 AM – Perfect. After we finish that lecture come over to mine and your face will officially be on a piece of paper for the rest of eternity._

_Lexa 2:48 AM – I am humbled by your skills, oh great one._

_Clarke 2:49 AM – Thank you._

_Clarke 2:50 AM – You can sleep over if you like, it would be a nice change considering your dorm room is almost becoming my actual residence as of recently._

_Clarke 2:50 AM – We’ll have to walk it to college the next day though._

_Lexa 2:51 AM – Still fighting with Raven and Octavia?_

She had almost forgotten about them.

She would like to continue, almost forgetting them.

_Clarke 2:52 AM – I wouldn’t call it fighting. More like, I’m avoiding there presence entirely and they’ve stopped trying to intercept mine._

_Lexa 2:53 AM – I see._

_Lexa 2:54 AM – Would you like to talk about it?_

_Clarke 2:55 AM – No, I’d like to sleep now._

_Clarke 2:56 AM – Do you not care about my sleep at all Lady?_

_Lexa 2:57 AM – After today, I would like very much to never hear that word again._

_Clarke 2:59 AM – Definitely._

_Clarke 3:00 AM – See you tomorrow, Lexa. Goodnight._

_Lexa 3:00 AM – See you today, Clarke. Goodmorning._

Clarke sleeps with a smile stapled onto her face that night.

**

Often, Octavia would have to remind herself that this was a man.

A _man_.

 _Not_ a boy; a fully grown, beautifully sculpted _man_.

Here she was, sitting across said man, and all she could think about was how she was itching to get out of the tightly strapped dress she managed to stuff herself into and finish her and Raven’s budding marathon of _Grey’s Anatomy_. And she knew, _she knew_ how terribly wrong that was.

She also knew that she couldn’t really help it.

Lincoln was everything she knew she should like in a person, which is precisely why she _did_ like him. He was kind in ways you don’t disregard, not even for a second. He cared about her like she wanted to be cared about, like she always dreamed, and there is no ‘but’, no semblance of a negative aspect that could excuse her for all of this. None of it.

He was staring at her now. Those kind eyes, the ones that make her want to melt, and she knows that in a few seconds he will most likely inquire about her own eyes, the ones that are drooping.

“Everything alright?”

She smiles at him, because that is the least she can do.

“Yes uhm.” She stares at the few pieces of meat left on her plate and ponders the next few words carefully. Did he deserve the lie? The lie that yes, everything was quite alright?

No _._ No he probably didn’t.

“Actually.” Her eyes find the courage to meet his and instantly, she knows that he knows what she’s about to say. “I need to talk to you about something.”

She watches his eyes, once so full of hope and love and laughter – droop. Just like hers, _just_ like her to ruin absolutely anything good in her life.

“You’re wonderful, Lincoln.” A beat. A second more, and she will eviscerate this hopeless bubble she has allowed herself to lie in. “But something is just missing, you know?”

Her fingers find their way to her forehead, scratching incessantly out of need. Out of desperation. “You and I would probably be perfect, absolutely perfect.” She sighs, “If I wasn’t so hopelessly hung up over this other person, honestly, we would be more than perfect.”

Lincoln raises his eyebrows slightly and clears his throat. “Are you saying that you-”

“Yes.” She cuts in. “ _Yes_. I tried my utter best to forget about it completely, and for a moment I did, because these two months with you have been beautiful, Lincoln.” There are tears that she knows she can’t shed, because it wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be fair. “But you are far too _good_ to be put in this position. I won’t do it to you, you don’t deserve that.”

“I see.” His eyes float down to his own empty plate and she can hear a soft exhale and it breaks her heart all over again. “So there’s no hope? Nothing at all?”

“Until this thing plays out the way it always should have, it would just be wrong to let you fight for something that isn’t worth fighting for.” Her hand carefully goes atop his and she is slightly comforted by the fact that he doesn’t pull his own away. “I wish that I could just let it go, because until I met you I never really thought I cared for it to. But you are incredible, Lincoln. I mean it, _incredible_.”

They remain like that for a what feels like a lifetime, sitting in a silence that she knows might engulf the two of them whole.

Finally, he speaks.

“I understand.” He smiles, but Octavia thinks that it is somewhat painful for him to do so. “I hope that you get to the bottom of whatever it is with that person, you deserve happiness Octavia.”

She wishes for a second, that he could just drop all his kindness and flood her with his anger. That is what she really deserves, not his kindness, not his understanding, none of it. But he is too good, too pure for any of it. He will say all the right things, and she will go home tonight with a heavy heart knowing that she has let something go, so that something else can rise up inside of her. 

It is too much, she thinks, this world is too much.

“Yes.” She breathes in, “Yes, I guess so.”

He smiles again, this time a little more genuine. “And you know what?”

She smiles back, “No, I do not.”

“You are _just_ as incredible, Octavia.”

**

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Clarke coughs, “Again. Minus the thousands of frat boys.”

Lexa walks in hesitantly, and for a second, almost thinks about bolting right out again.

She breathes in quietly and falls quite in love with how personal the apartment has become since the last time she had been here. Paintings adorned the walls, as if they were innately a part of them and it was _beautiful_. She could recognise Clarke’s paintings anywhere, really. They were intricately designed, and she knew, that somehow, this was what it was like to look into Clarke’s soul.

It felt too intimate.

And so, she stopped looking.

“It’s quite different from the last time you’ve seen it.” She takes off her coat and places it on the hanger close to the door. “I’ve put up some of my best work here; seeing as it probably will never really go elsewhere.”

“Why do you say that?”

She eyes her own paintings carefully and sighs, “I love it. I love every part of it; but I won’t get anywhere with it. I have to be realistic; and that means I have to accept the possibility that not every thing I love gets to be my passion, you understand?”

“I do.” Lexa watches Clarke for a second, and decides not to argue with her just this once time. Instead, one particular painting manages to catch her eyes. Raven, Octavia and Clarke; intertwined in some kind of embrace, and they were looking, right up at the stars. It filled Lexa up with the kind of sadness she liked to stray away from, and yet, she couldn’t stop looking.

“Do you like it?”

Lexa finds that Clarke is actually looking at her, rather than the painting.

“Yes.” She nods, “But it makes me wonder, what’s really been going these past few weeks.”

She frowns at her, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Clarke.”

Clarke’s nostrils flare for a second, and it seems that she is irritated by this comment. “If I do know what you mean, then it’s clear I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“We’re past this, you do know that, right?” Lexa sighs as she follows Clarke to the kitchen, “I’m the last person who would ever wish to probe your life like this, but I still feel an obligation to ask what you’re so desperate to avoid when it comes to them.”

She groans, “Lexa, you have the greatest intentions, I know. But, today is our day, I don’t want to talk about them, okay?”

“All the more reason to.”

She doesn’t really know herself, why she keeps persuing the topic, all she knows is that she must.

“What the _hell_ do you want me to talk about?”

Lexa expects the outburst, so it does not surprise her, but nonetheless it stings.

“The reason as to why you’re shouting at me right now, when all you really want to do is shout at them.” Her answer does not mirror the tone Clarke’s question occupied; it did however assert a kind of firm nature that she knew Clarke recognised instantly.

Her eyes close immediately and she watches as she chastises herself, it makes her feel guilty enough to take a step towards her. Makes her guilty enough, to just be a little closer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Her eyes open again and she is looking at Lexa with such intensity, it makes her uncomfortable. She cannot take Clarke looking at her like that, because she knows what it could mean, and she’d rather not know at all. “I just don’t know how to put it into words.”

For selfish reasons, Lexa decides not to pursue the topic further. She realises, there is too much emotion in this room for the two of them, and she wants nothing more than to detach from it. Lexa is losing her head, her heart, her mind. She doesn’t know how much more she can lose.

“Well, when you figure out how, don’t hold back.”

Clarke smiles at this, and it makes Lexa feel a little better.

“Sit down there, Lex.” She points towards the chair tucked into the island, and there is instantly a fervent look in Clarke’s eyes that she does not understand. “I’m going to get my supplies, just, stay _right_ there, okay?”

Lexa watches as she darts off into another room, and sits on the designated chair in confusion. She was trying not to think, trying to be effortlessly at ease, like the people she watches on television, like anyone really, who wasn’t her. It doesn’t work, because she is thinking now, about Clarke, about how happy she is that she is here.

About how sad she will be, when she has to leave.

“Alright!” She can hear Clarke’s booming voice nearing, and it makes her laugh, obviously. How could it not? “Get ready for my mad artsy skills.”

“Over here?” She stares at Clarke, “Don’t you need, I don’t know, some professional set up?”

She scoffs and starts unloading her supplies out of a big grey bag; “Who’s the brilliant artist here again?”

Lexa rolls her eyes and resigns to the back of her chair. “Don’t make me look ugly.”

“Impossible.” Clarke winks at her, and she viscously ignores her body’s insistence to blush.

Silence follows, and for a few minutes all that can be heard between them is the gentle scratch of pencil against paper; and it is soothing.

“You don’t have to say nothing, Lex, as long as you don’t move around too much; I get the general idea.”

The problem is, Lexa doesn’t really know what to say. She thinks that if she says anything in this moment, she will ruin everything. She always ruins everything.

“Are you deaf as well as mute?”

Lexa frowns, “Don’t you think that’s a little offensive?”

“Yes well, it got you to say something, did it not?” She shoots her a devilish grin, and it makes Lexa laugh just a little, once again. “There we go, a laugh too!”

“Alright Clarke, we get it.”

“Oi, don’t frown.” Clarke mimicks a smile and encourages her to do so too , “If you frown there, you frown here too.”

Lexa groans in protest, but tries her best to co operate with Clarke, all the while thinking about how much closer she’d like to be to her. Clarke has never been this focused on anything before, she knows this because anyone who knew her well enough knew that she had a wondering eye. She could tell when Clarke was paying attention in class, and when she really wasn’t and really much of the time it was the latter.

She wanted to be closer because here, in this moment, she witnesses Clarke’s absolute idealisaton for her own Art. It is scary to see that side of her; because it engulfs her into her presence tenfold. It is like watching beauty itself, transcend.

In this moment, Clarke can see nothing, do nothing, but this.

Or so she thought.

The slam of the door startles them both, and all Lexa can see in Clarke then, is concern.

Etched all over her face.

**

“Octavia” Clarke is shaking her, trying to get something out of her besides sobs, but it seems she is unsuccessful in this attempt. She glances at Lexa quickly, who looks more uncomfortable than she has ever seen her, and it makes Clarke instantly regret ever getting her involved in all of her mess.

She had to forget how angry she was at Octavia right now, swipe away all the annoyance she feels because of her absurd intrustion and remember that this was her best friend. In pieces.

“Okay, Octavia, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened.” She’s trying to search for some kind of reaction; some kind of a reaction – and still, nothing.

Lexa clears her throat, and Clarke’s eyes desperately dart towards hers.

“Should I go Clarke? I think I should go.”

Clarke’s eyes plead for her not to; but it seems like Lexa’s are pleading otherwise. She understands it, the reluctance, but she just wishes she would stay. She wishes, and wishes it.

“Don’t be an idiot, Lexa.” Octavia’s spindly voice comes out of nowhere, and it startles the both of them. “You can stay.”

Lexa exhales and accepting this, helps Clarke place Octavia on the sofa in the living room. Simultaneously, she avoids Clarke’s wondering eyes and it makes her feel sick.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” She watches Octavia wipe her eyes and she feels like she probably already knows. “Please?”

She sighs loudly and kicks off her boots, “Everything is _wrong_ , okay? I can never get anything right. Not with you, not with Raven, not with anyone.”

“Still doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I broke up with Lincoln.” She bites back aggressively, but instantly becomes aware of the fact that Lexa is also with them, and softens her tone. “I had to.”

Lexa raises her eyebrows and finally looks back at Clarke.

“Because?”

Octavia quietens down now, and her breathing becomes slower. Whatever it was that she was about to say, she was ashamed of it.

 _“Because_ there’s someone else. There has always been someone else, and I’m tired of pretending that she doesn’t exist.”

This time Clarke raises her own eyebrows, and stares right back at Lexa; who looks equally as confused by all of this as she does.

“Can you two stop having your stupid ‘eye conversations’ and look at me?” Octavia grumbles, “I’m literally pouring my heart out here and you two are judging me for it.”

“We’re not judging you, but you just sprung all this upon us and it takes some time to process – hence the ‘eye conversations’.” Clarke is irritated by her insistence to be arrogant, but is also secretly very grateful that she didn’t allude to the awkward tension engulfing the both of them in the meantime.

She shrugs, “I just need to think about this without falling apart, and I know that you’re mad at me and I’m ruining that right now, but I need you.”

“ _Okay_.” Clarke doesn’t need to think about whether she deserves that or not. She does. The thing about friendship is that there are exceptions, there are points in time where no matter how mad you are at someone, you care. You cannot stop caring just because you are angry, or mad or sad. Clarke knew this, and she swore by it. “Come on then, we’ll watch something till you can calm down a little.”

She looks at Lexa then, “Do you mind?”

Lexa shakes her head, and takes a seat next to her. “As long as we don’t watch _Jersey Shore,_ I’m fine.”

“Are you joking?” Clarke whispers, “I _told you_ to forget about that.”

“Too late.”

Octavia smiles as best as she can and shakes her head at them both; “Save it for later, love birds.”

Clarke kicks Octavia’s shin not quite so delicately and eyes her very carefully, to which she shoots an equally careful grin back.

It is in this moment, Clarke realises how much she has missed her.

**

The last thing Raven ever expected in her life that night, was to find Clarke, Octavia and Lexa all sprawled out on the couch, watching Grey’s Anatomy as if it was second nature to them. The truth was, little of what Raven ever expected, actually happened.

“What’s going on here then?”

They all look back as she wipes her wet shoes on the carpet, and it doesn’t take her more than a second to realise that something is wrong. She realises, because the second her eyes drift to Octavia’s; there is a stilness in the room.

She sits next to Octavia and curls her arm around her, and is comforted by her presence, her scent. She misses her all day long, in every hour and every minute; she misses her.

“What’s wrong, O?”

She shrugs, and winces as she brings herself to tell her.

“I broke up with Lincoln.”

Raven’s eyes open wide and shoot up to Clarke’s, who she knew, was eyeing her tentatively. The problem, was that all eyes were on her, all expecting the next thing to come out of her mouth to be something sufficient enough to mask the sick joy they probably all knew she was feeling in that moment.

It was embarassing, to say the least.

“Do you need me to go buy you Ben and Jerry’s?” She sighs, “What do people do during break ups?” She searches frantically in her pockets for her keys, “I can go out and buy some right now, I can get wine too. I think.” She watches as Octavia’s brow furrows and feels even shakier, “Or is that not a good idea?”

Octavia’s hand grabs Raven’s quickly, and she feels her squeeze it. “All you need to do is be here, okay?” She breathes in shakily, “Just...always be here.”

She can feel herself sinking into her touch, and she is calm again. “ _Okay_.”

They sit there for a while, all four of them, all with things left unsaid between each of them.

And all Raven could think about, was how Octavia never let her hand go.

**

Lexa didn’t know what to think, she thought this day would have gone a completely different way. Or at least, would not have ended up with Clarke and her sitting at the ends of a bed wordlessly. She realised somewhere along the way, that this is the part in her story where she ultimately fucks up the ‘one good thing’.

She didn’t want it to be the same with Clarke.

“Clarke?” Lexa builds up the courage to say something, and it falters immediately when she realises how frail her voice is. “I’m sorry about freaking out on you today, I just-” She runs a hand through her hair and sighs, “I guess I just got used to it being the two of us, and then I didn’t know what to do when Octavia was there and I just felt like an intruder. Like I shouldn’t have been there.”

Clarke’s eyebrows rise up in concern and she moves closer to Lexa, and it is as if it is like clockwork to her, to take her hand and make all her worries dissipate into thin air. “I’m not like this cause of you, Lexa.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and the contact is enough to make Lexa lose her mind all over again. “I just had a lot to process with Octavia and Raven today. They’re a mess, you know? Without me, or with me, they’re a mess.”

Just as Lexa opens her mouth, Clarke is back to talking.

“I got used to it being the two of us too.” Her face is so close to Lexa’s now, she stops wondering _why_ she can feel her breath on her face, and starts seeing _how_. “I _wanted_ it to just be the two of us. I-“

She stops then, as if she was about to say something she shouldn’t have, as if the next few words could drown them both together.

“You are so important to me.” Her eyes close momentarily, and re open, just as blue as ever. “I love Octavia and Raven, they’re one of the sole reasons I’m here right now, today; but they tire me. They’re always enveloped in their own kind of drama, and they are both _so_ destructive together, so if you’re in close proximity you end up being just as messed up as them.”

Clarke becomes aware of _their_ proximity all of a sudden, and backs away, settling to sit beside her instead; and it pulls at Lexa’s every urge to want her there with her. Close, always close.. It is always like this between them, as if they are far too close, and far too far away all at the same time.

“I think you just need some space from them, Clarke.” She shakes her head in disbelief, “What I saw between them today was like looking at Costia and I from the outside; it’s devotion, Clarke, and until they realise it they will never be the way you want them to be with you.”

She scoffs, “Yeah well not to ruin the love fest and all, but I think it’s about time they do. It’s so painfully obvious even _I_ have had to stop denying it for them.” Her hands are restless on her lap and Lexa finds it funny how her own hands are always itching to calm them down. “Octavia pretty much admitted it today, and God knows when she’s actually going to do anything about it. It’s like watching a fucking trainwreck, and I so desperately want to press pause.”

“Have you told them this?”

“How am I supposed to tell my two best friends that I wish they would shut up and admit they’re in love with each other, when they don’t even know it themselves?” Clarke’s movements are becoming more and more agitated, and it hurts Lexa to watch Clarke hold the weight of the world on her shoulders. “How do you cease to acknowledge the most obvious thing in the world, the one thing that stares at you right in the face?”

She turns to look at her now, “When you’re in love with someone, you just know it, right?”

She cannot bare to look at Clarke as she answers this. Cannot bare it, even for a second.

“Yes.”

“ _Yes.”_ Clarke stares at Lexa for far too long and eventually gets back to her point. “Then what the hell is their problem?”

“I don’t know, Clarke.” She looks back at her, “I don’t know at all. I think everyone is different in the way they do things. They are the only things they have known since they were little besides you, and these feelings could ruin everything. _Being_ in love as well as falling in love can be terrifying, Clarke.”

“It doesn’t have to be terrifying.” Clarke’s hand finds its way into Lexa’s, and she welcomes the interaction just as much as she abhorrs it. “It can be beautiful. Sometimes you don’t find the right person, and it hurts, and sometimes they get taken away from you, but does that mean you should avoid it at all costs?”

For a long while, the answer would have been yes.

And then.

And _then._

“It’s like flying, Lexa. It’s like being in the clouds when you are happy with someone as you are happy with yourself.” She smiles so genuinely, that it gives Lexa hope. _Hope_. Like it exists, like it exists for _her_. “Love isn’t like the ever changing moods of the seasons, it is the constant rock that withstands the seasons. It is with you in your worst, in your best. It is a part of you, just as much as you are a part of it. We complicate it so much, Lexa, we all do.”

This is, she realises, what makes Clarke so likeable. She has been through so much horror and terror, but she finds the positive; and she makes you see it too. It is such a rare quality, she wants Clarke to know how much she _sees_ it. How much she values it.

“I wish I could see the world the way you do.”

Clarke rests her head on her shoulder, “All you have to do is let me show you.”

_How do I do that?_

Clarke’s eyes always find their way back to her, and it is comforting. She revels in it, just like she revels in her. “I will tell you whenever I can, Lexa, you are so special to me. So dear.” Her face is nearing to hers, her hand still holding on tightly to hers, and Lexa’s breathing can no longer remain even. “If only you knew, Lexa, if only.”

Lexa smiles gently and titls her head, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know that I _see you_. That I will _always_ see you.”  She pushes her forehead gently onto Lexa’s and she can feel her eyelids shut at the contact. She wants to sink into it. She does. “I’m here at the end of this disastrous day, and I don’t care. I don’t care, because you’re here.”

She doesn’t know what this means. She doesn’t know why Clarke is breathing so heavily, she doesn’t know why she can feel herself falling like putty in Clarke’s embrace. She doesn’t know anything.

Except;

She _does_ know.

She really does.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea how I managed to update this so quickly for once, but I won't question it! I wrote the end of the chapter to Sarah by Ray LaMontagne, so if you want to give it a try go ahead. Feedback is always appreciated <3

She remembers everything the second she opens her eyes. The second she breaths her in and realises she is wrapped around her like a listless child; not ever wanting to let go; she _remembers_.

There is a dull ache then, in her heart, her mind – like every lost memory coming back to her – she looks at Lexa, who is so close, and realises she would like to be anywhere but here in this moment. She has yearned for this, for them to be this close, she has _dreamed_ of this and yet now she cannot look at Lexa without wincing. Without crying out in despair.

She cannot look at her. She cannot _see_ her anymore.

It is too much. Clarke has lost much of what she knew, but this, _this_ she knows.

Slowly, she untangles herself from Lexa and she is free.

Free, of course, to ruin everything she worked up to with Lexa.

Clarke takes one more look, and she is overwhelmed with the way Lexa looks so peaceful. She is too good for everything Clarke is, for everything she has become. She’d love more than anything, to wrap herself around Lexa once more, to indulge in everything she has wanted out of her for ages. But she cannot. It is wrong. It is all too wrong.

Her steps towards the kitchen make her aware of how hollow the apartment is. There are no voices to be heard, no pitter pat of the rain that she heard yesterday, just deafening silence. It wasn’t the type of silence she used to enjoy; this, was the silence of herself.

She goes to check up on Octavia and Raven and sees them huddled up together, fast asleep. As usual. She wants to smile, but then again, there was so little to smile about nowadays. There was Lexa. But even that she could turn to dust. Even that, she could find some way to ruin.

_How could she be so careless?_

Of all the questions she could ask herself, this would be the one that she’d wish could be answered. It was just like Lexa to make all reason dissipate into thin air, and just like her to make Clarke out to be the most transparent she had ever been.

Hastily, she tossed the coffee into her mug and waited for the water to boil. Her nights were full of her, full of Lexa and full of all the things she wished she could say to her; and the one time she does, the one time she lets herself, it is all set to fall apart.

 _She_ is falling apart.

“Clarke?”

She bites her lip discreetly and _wishes_ Lexa wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t say her name like it was the first time she ever heard it, like it brought the stars to the sky. She wishes that she hadn’t met someone who was everything she had hoped to find in a person, in a time when she had so little hope herself.

“Are you okay?” Lexa walks towards her, hands tugging at her sleeves. “It’s early.”

She shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep too well.” Reaching for the kettle, she pours some water into her mug, and tries at best to avoid any of the conversation shifting towards her. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

There is a silence that envelopes the two of them, and she knows Lexa well enough to know that she feels it too. Sometimes, she thinks that they are too alike in that way, other times she realises she is being too hopeful; too naiive.

They are nothing like each other.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her eyes are on her now. They inquire, quizzically, and Clarke dashes away from their interrogative nature. She cannot take her looking at her like that, like she cares. “You don’t seem it.”

“I’m fine.” She sighs, “I’m not really the best company when I miss out on sleep.”

“Oh.” Lexa sips her coffee tentatively, noticing that there is not much more she can add to their conversation; her eyes drop to the floor. Clarke feels horrible then, for disregarding her like that, because it’s the last thing Lexa deserves.

Clarke puts her mug on the table and spreads her fingers out; fidgeting. “I don’t know why I said certain things last night, but It was just an...emotionally powered day and I guess I just-”

“It’s fine.” Lexa interrupts her and frowns, “I don’t think you said anything out of order.” She looks at the floor then, (whatever did she find so interesting down there?) and pauses for a second. “It was nice.”

“It was?”

Lexa smiles then and gives her the slightest of nods, secretive in its own way. This sets her off all over again. She is too enamoured with her, enough to know she would let Lexa take everything from her; _everything_.

Her eyes become avoidant once more, and she loses touch with reality. There are a million thoughts running through her head; and how sadness could prevail through every thing, through every creviss of her mind – she did not know. This existence was tiring; she was tired of the hurting; of _being_ hurt. She had to let go of this before it would let go of her.

“I’m going to go get ready for my first class, okay?” She gulps the last of her coffee and doesn’t look back as she walks back into her room.

The thing is, she can feel Lexa’s eyes trail her all the way back.

**

It was strange, to say the least; one day Clarke was here, and the next she was gone. If Lexa wasn’t so desperately in denial all the time, she’d say that Clarke was avoiding her.

Was she?

All week, Lexa had to get used to a lack of messages, short and fruitless conversations at work and practically an invisible feeling whenever they were in class together. It was like Clarke got bored of her, like everything she seemed to like about Lexa suddenly made her abhorr her.

It felt like being cheated.

_“I don’t care, because you’re here”_

And what did that stand for now? What could it possibly mean for Clarke to say something like that and back away the next day? It meant that she was right before. She was right not to open up; to stay closed and mindful of the nature of people. Because she was right.

Lexa, was always right.

It meant nothing to her that Clarke had said all those things to her, because her actions had showed her the complete opposite. It hurt. To think about it; to think about how it is _all_ she has thought about for the whole week.

She buries her head in her hands and thinks about crying. She thinks about the pain that is seething through her right now; the pain that never slithers away. The pain that thrashes through her every single day, living at the back, like her very own personal background noise.

Days like today, it seized to remain in the background.

Hesitantly, she trudges over to her bed and wraps the covers around her. She stares, for what seems like hours, at the bed she is so used to Clarke never sleeping in. She stares, and wonders, how someone has made her way into her life so easily, and how she has managed to shut out the people who have been in it for years without a bat of an eye.

Is this what it felt like to be shut out? What it felt like for Anya and Lincoln?

_Why was she always messing up?_

Even with Costia. Even then.

_“You can’t do this, Lex.” Anger is everywhere, and nowadays it seemed to be a constant emotion settled in by the two of them. “There’s two of us. Talk to me.”_

_“Talk about what?” She knows she’s wrong, but she also knows she’ll go on anyway. She wants this fight, wants to feel something real. “I said, I have some stuff to deal with, do you not get that?”_

_Costia paces and shakes her head in disbelief, her face faltering. “You avoided me for a week. A week, Lexa! You can’t do that and pretend that I won’t show up here and be mad.” She stops pacing then, and looks at her square in the eye. “I’m scared for you. I’m scared, for us.”_

_This stings, of course. It always does when she says that._

_“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” Lexa’s eyes drop to the floor, like they always do when she cannot face anything, or anyone. “I’m sorry? I’m so desperately sorry that I suck at communication and that sometimes I don’t feel like talking to anyone. Not even you.”_

_She shakes her head again then, “No. No, you don’t get to do that.” Her eyes, always her eyes, they inquire about her. They must be asking all types of questions. Questions Lexa herself cannot answer. “I have known you for all of my life. You are as much of me as I am of you. Whatever happens to us, that will always be true. I know when you are you, and today, this week, this whole year even, you have not been you.”_

_The words go through her like a knife. The truth of it all, is too much for her. She is brilliant at avoiding everything, perhaps even everyone, but her? She can never really avoid her. Costia knows her too well at this point to ever let her get away like this. It scares her enough to make her question what in the world she ever thought in the first place. What was she thinking?_

_Whatever was she thinking?_

_Her tears come then, and she is aware of how much she welcomes them. She needs them, because she has tears she should have cried for years now. Tears she could cry for everyone who has left, who has trodded all over her, tears for herself._

_She wants out, in this very moment, she wants, out._

_“Lexa.” Costia’s hushed tone is all she needs to fall entirely into her. Her hands envelope her and she is home, she is safe. Nothing could harm her whilst Costia was here, and she knows, she knows she will forget this all tomorrow. That she will grow hard and calloused again as she awakes. It is wrong, but she is helpless. She cries, anyway, as if it is the first time. As if there is no one watching._

_“Lexa?” She repeats herself, a little more firmly this time, with her hands running through her hair. “What is going on? Please. Please tell me.”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“You must know something.”_

_“If I did then I could stop hurting you.” Her eyes close shut, and she can feel the dampness of her eyelashes. She can feel it all. “I don’t know how long I can go on like this.”_

_Costia places her chin over her head and hushes her, and for a second she wonders, feels, how small she has become. How little she matters._

_“Don’t say things like that.”_

_“Why not?”_

_She raises her head to meet hers, and presses her forehead to hers. “Because we are going to get you out of this. You just have to let me, okay? Just let me.”_

_The only problem was she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what any of it meant; but she nodded anyway._

_“Keep breathing. Just keep breathing, Lexa.”_

The tears come again, and this time they are deafening. She cannot breathe, cannot think, she just sobs all of it away; because she is tired, because she doesn’t know what else to do. Her life has been a conglomeration of mishaps and losses and _pain_.

At least, she had her, her person.

Now she has no one.

Not even Clarke.

Her face is damp, her chest heaves, and yet nothing will stop her. She keeps crying, keeps clawing at the bed sheets as if she can feel someone kicking her down. Nothing happens when she cries for helps in the depths of her mind, when she pleads for it like hell; because no one comes to save you.

She tries to grab for her phone nonetheless, wishing, that somehow she was wrong.

_Lexa 8:14 PM – Do you have anything to do tomorrow after English? Was thinking you’d like to come over and get take out, haven’t spoken to you in a while._

Her nails dig into her skin soon after she sends the message, she scratches, fervently waiting for an answer and feels stupid for doing so in the first place. She is vulnerable and utterly out of her mind in this moment, and she has trusted Clarke far too much. _Far_ too much.

Lexa waits. Her eyes dry and she is still waiting. There is so much silence, so much pain, and she is sucked dry to the bone because of it.

In the end, she remains disatsified; because she was right.

She was always right.

_Clarke 9:20 PM – Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of research to do tomorrow._

**

It wasn’t hard to love Lexa.

Often, she just _made_ it hard.

But she would forget all of that in a heartbeat, because she was family. Family, like, no other. There were skies and seas she would cross for her, and there was no reason why, she just would do it. There was no one better than her who knew just what Lexa had lost in her life, the only person who did know just as much, was now gone too.

It hurt Anya to think about it like that, but it was the truth. More often than not she saw her cousin suffer through her own kind of sadness; it always seemed like a part of her, like the only innate truth to Lexa. When she lost Costia, she lost Lexa right along with her.

Which is why she’s currently waiting to meet her for lunch on a Saturday morning, when she could be sleeping, effortlessly, in her bed.

The last two months she saw something different in Lexa, something worth saving; and as much as she wished it had something to do with her efforts; it had all to do with Clarke. Clarke, the girl who somehow gave Lexa some kind of will to live.

She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t need to. Lexa saw something in Clarke she didn’t see in her or Lincoln. It hurt, but it didn’t matter, if she was happy; then Anya was happy.

Anya stared at her watch and grew slightly concerned when she saw the time. Lexa was late; which was most unlike her. Lexa was the type of person who would be half an hour early, not half an hour late. Even in the worst of her moods, she aimed to please, aimed to be cordial when needed.

Soon enough, however, she watched her cousin trudge into the small diner, and the closer she came, the more she felt her insides turn sour. Her hair was tied up in some kind of messy bun, but her eyes, they were engulfed by dark circles. They were swollen, almost barely open, and her entire posture screamed its own kind of despair. Something had happened all over again, and this time, it was far too noticeable.

“What the hell happened to you?”

She had no time to beat around the bush.

“Nothing.” Lexa’s voice was sharp, but not sharp enough to allow Anya to drop the subject. She watches as she leafs through the menu, and it breaks her heart to see that there is something deep inside of Lexa that is broken. That, perhaps, has always been broken.

Anya lets her order them both food before she revisits the topic once more; and even then, she is hesitant on what to say.

“Lexa.” She says her name quietly this time, and watches as she looks at her directly in the eye. “What’s _wrong_?”

Her eyes speak volumes. It was always like that with Lexa; what you couldn’t find out through words, you could find out through her expression. And today, she didn’t need to hear her speak to know that the answer was _everything_.

“Tell me.”

It shocks Anya to see tears drop onto their table. It shocks her, because she hasn’t seen her cry in _years._ Indra died, and she held them in, _Costia_ died and she held them in; for anything that ever happened, Lexa did not cry – at least not in front of her. She began, in that moment, to imagine the worst.

“I can’t.” Her voice cracks, and she is vicously rubbing her eyes. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Do _what_?” Anya was trying hard not to show how anxious she was, but she was human after all, and this was a sorry sight.

“ _This._ ” She hisses, “This whole life, the one I live every day. I can’t do it. I can’t breathe, I can’t _think_ anymore. I’m tired of trying and opening my heart for people who don’t deserve it just to be proved right over and over again. It’s like I’m fucking cursed, that’s what this feels like.” She breathes heavily and closes her eyes momentarily, before looking up at Anya again. “I can’t do it anymore.”

She’d never heard her speak like this before, never seen her act like this; and it was alarming. It was killing her, to see it.

“Who hurt you?”

She tries to say it calmly, but it comes out just as threatening as she meant it.

“No one hurt me.” She replies, “I just-”

“Someone clearly hurt you.” Anya interrupts, “You just very poignantly insinuated it.”

Lexa looks up at the ceiling and exhales roughly. “It’s not just that, okay?” She bites her lip in effort not to cry anymore, “It’s everything, and it’s always _been_ everything. I just thought.” Her eyes close again quickly, and more tears spill out. “I _thought_ I found someone who could have been worth it.” The last sentence comes out as a faint whisper.

She knows instantly, then.

“Clarke.”

She nods and wipes away more tears. “Yeah.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “ _Yeah_.”

 “What did she do?” Anya does everything not to grit her teeth as she says this.

She shrugs, “She isn’t talking to me.” Her breath becomes frail then, “It’s like I did something wrong.”

“Did you?”

“No!” Her defense sparks up some life in her, but it soon dies out as she continues. “I don’t know. Maybe I did. Maybe I fucked this up like I fuck everything else up.”

“Shut up.” She grabs her hand roughly, “We don’t talk like that.”

Lexa snatches her hand back equally as roughly, “’ _We_ ’ don’t do anything, Anya. We just pretend half of the shit that has happened to us isn’t happening. That’s all _we_ do.”

“I’m not the person you’re mad at, so I’ll forget that you’re acting like a brat.” She smiles at the waitress who comes to give them their food, and eyes Lexa carefully. As soon as the waitress is gone, she finds her voice again. “Why is this affecting you so much?”

She frowns at her, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Listen to me, Lexa, I know you’re feeling like shit right now, I know I don’t understand it, but you don’t get to displace all of your baggage onto me, okay?” She grabs her fork and begins digging into her meal, “You _don’t_ talk to me like that. I’m trying to help.”

Her demeanor changes then, she sits up straight and exhales. “You’re right.” She clears her throat, “I’m sorry. I’m acting like a total idiot, and you’re the last person I should be lashing out at.”

“Yeah, well.” She smiles, “It’s okay, you get a ‘free get out of jail card’ just today, alright?”

Lexa smiles, although minimally, it’s there.

“So.” Anya says through bites, “ _Why_ is this affecting you so much?”

“Because.” She hesitates for a second, puts down her fork and sighs. “Because, I like her. I like her more than I wanted to ever admit.”

Anya holds herself back from making a witty comment, deciding that now was most definitely not the time. “That’s okay.”

“It isn’t, though.” Lexa rubs her forehead absentmindedly, “She’s my _friend_ , and I’ve caught feelings at the wrong time, for the wrong person.”

“How do you even know that?”

“She’s straight.” Lexa bluntly replies, “I’m a mess, _she’s_ a mess. I shouldn’t like someone when I find it hard to get out of bed in the morning, Anya. I shouldn’t like someone when half of me is gone. Everything is wrong about this.”

Anya frowns, “Alright, first of all, she’s not straight.”

“What?”

“Raven has made jokes on how her, Octavia and Clarke live in a ‘bi-partment’.” She smirks, “On many occasions, actually.”

Lexa frowns now too, “Bi-partment?”

“Yes.” She finishes her meal and lies back in her chair slightly, “They’re all bisexual. _Three_ bisexuals. It’s supposed to be funny.”

She doesn’t seem to find the joke all that amusing. “Well, whatever.” She sighs, “It still doesn’t make a difference.”

“Oh please.” She scoffs, “Don’t act like I didn’t just open a bunch of doors in your head right now.”

“Shut up.”

“So.” Anya clears her throat, “What was the last thing that happened between you two?”

Lexa flexes her fingers, and goes into a detailed description of all that happened the night she slept over at her house. She tells her everything before that, too. Their shared late night conversations; all the nights they slept together most contently. All through it, Anya sees even then, that Lexa is smiling through some of it. There is something about Clarke, that gives Lexa reason to smile, and she knows then, that her job is to fix this.

“ _Lexa_.” She articulates her name clearly to grab her attention. “Lexa, you idiot, she _likes_ you.”

She rolls her eyes in response, “Okay, Anya.”

“No.” She waits for the waitress to pick up their empty plates before continuing, and notices that even then, she has piqued Lexa’s interest. “ _Really,_ Lexa. Raven had been telling me for ages that something was up with Clarke, and that she hadn’t ever seen her act the way she was acting, not even around her ex. _She likes you_.”

“Yes, of course.” Lexa’s eyes grow cold, “Next you’re going to tell me she’s distancing herself because she’s scared of _how_ much she likes me. How awfully poetic.”

Anya shrugs, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“We live in the real world, Anya.” She laughs, “This isn’t a young adult novel.”

“Says the young adult.”

She rolls her eyes once again (amazing how many times she could do that), and finished the rest of her drink. “Clarke doesn’t like me. End of story.”

“Okay, stupid.” Anya sits up straight once again and decides that her cousin needs a little bit of schooling in the area. “She spends her nights almost always with you, can’t bare not to sleep next to you when she does, professes how important you are to her almost _daily_.” She sighs, “Clarke told you, that she _sees_ you. That whatever the circumstance, as long as you are there she ‘doesn’t care.’ She. Likes. You.” Anya scoffs, “Maybe even loves you.”

Lexa shakes her head in disbelief, but Anya knows now, that she has gotten to her. She knows, because her eyes are no longer devoid of hope; now they are _full_ of it.

“ _Whatever_ it is.” She settles, “I’m not going to chase after her like an insolent child. She’s being ridiculous.”

“Obviously.” Anya smiles, “Just wait a little, if you ask me, she’s going to come to her senses soon enough.”

Lexa doesn’t reply then; she just stares; and Anya knows that secretly, she is hoping that she is just right.

“Anyway.” Anya scratches her arm slightly, figuring she might as well change up the conversation a little. “In other news, I broke off whatever was going on with Raven.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Last night.”

Her eyes widen, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.” She chuckles, “It’s not a big deal, I saw it coming.”

“How come, though?”

“ _Because_.” She sighs, “She’s more of a lost cause than you and Clarke are put together. She’s desperately in love with her best friend and doesn’t even want to acknolwedge it. She wouldn’t shut up about her.”

Lexa looks at her somewhat forlorn, “I’m sorry.”

“No need.” Anya shrugs, “I knew what I was getting into, and I just had to adjust my feelings a little.”

Her cousin looks at her then, and she remembers that Lexa knows her just as well as she does. They speak the same language, and it is now, looking into the creviss of those same eyes, that she remembers that.

“You can’t ‘adjust’ your feelings.” Lexa smiles slightly and tilts her head, “You liked her, didn’t you?”

There’s no point lying to Lexa. She knows that too.

“I guess she grew on me a little.” Anya grabs Lexa’s hands and squeezes them tightly, “But it’s okay, because _you_ are going to be okay, right? I can count on that.”

Lexa smiles then. A real smile.

“You can count on that.”

**

Clarke stared and stared at her text. Under her covers, ignoring her endless anatomy assignments, ignoring everyone really. Ignoring _her_.

Lexa invited her over, because she was _worried_ ; and all she had to say to that was that she had ‘research’ to do. What the hell was she thinking? _What was she doing?_

She had stared at her reply for days, often, thought about changing it somehow. Thought about cancelling her ‘research’ plans, and go to the person she always wants to go to. But she can’t. She can’t think when she’s near her, she just feels, and feels, and _feels._

Clarke feels like she is nothing. Nothing, at all.

“Clarke?”

Clarke’s eyes widen as she feels someone pulling her covers off of her. She turns around, to see Bellamy, of all people, ushering her out of bed.

“Come on.” He grabs her arm softly and hugs her tightly. “What’s been going on with you lately?”

She doesn’t look him in the eye, but she does hug him back. All she wants right now, is some kind of familiarity, some kind of memory of what she used to be before everything fell apart. Before everyone walked out.

“How did you come in?”

“Raven let me in.” He sighed, “She’s worried about you, you know. O is too. We all are.”

She closes her eyes and indulges herself in his embrace for a little longer. Clarke doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to remember anything anymore; she just wants comfort. Today, she needs to be taken care of.

_She wants her Mum._

Bellamy pulls away slowly and reaches for his bag, retrieving a brown paper bag inside of it. “Wells told me these were your favourite.” He hands her a wrap, and she forgets for a second, how long it had been since she last ate properly. “ _Eat_.”

 Clarke nods and they eat in silence. She relishes each bite, and wonders whatever happened to her sanity, whatever happened to remembering to eat and shower? Whatever happened to being fearless? Is this what happens when someone is too strong, for far too long? Or is it what happens when someone is not so strong after all?

“So.” Bellamy sighs and throws their wrappers in the bin, settling back down next to her on her bed. “Are you still fighting with Raven and Octavia?”

Clarke shrugs, “Not really. I just can’t bring myself to say much to them right now.”

“Why?”

“ _Because_.” She was grateful for his presence, but she was growing to be irritated with his questions. “It’s always two against one with them. They’re either pissed at each other, or both pissed at me. They’re like kids, and it tires me out.”

He nods, “I don’t blame you, and I explained that to them.”

“You did?”

“Of course.” He fishes a bottle of water out of his bag and offers her some, to which she accepts almost too eagerly. “It took them a while, but it’s been a month like this and I think they finally took what I said into consideration.” His eyes drift to the closed door, and then back to her once more. “They feel guilty, you know?”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say to this, she feels as if they are the least of her problems for once. She’s a mess, and she has subsequently projected that mess into every situation possible in her life. She projected it onto Lexa, and now she was ignoring her back too. Lexa did not look at her during classes, made it a point never to speak to her during shifts; and her messages never came by.

It made her worry. It made her worry about how she was, if she was okay.

Maybe she didn’t have the right to worry in the first place.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Clarke grows suspicous then.

“What did they tell you?”

He looks at her guiltily then, as if he was going to say something she wasn’t really going to like. “Octavia saw Lexa in her class yesterday and she asked her what was up with you.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Wait.” Bellamy says this firmly, eyeing her carefully. “She said that you randomly stopped talking to her out of nowhere, so she was just as clueless.”

“ _Why?_ ” Her voice booms now, and it seems, she has sparked to life just for a second. For a moment. She stands up and runs her hands through the mess of her hair that she was sporting. “Why the hell did she have to do that?”

“She was looking out for you.”

She scoffs, “Oh yeah, right on time.”

“Hey.” He frowns slightly, and beckons her to calm down. “I’m not saying this because she’s my sister, but she doesn’t deserve your anger here. You’re probably not even angry _at_ her, Clarke. You’re angry because she hit a nerve.”

She says nothing then. He’s right. He’s too right.

Her legs find their way back down to earth, and she is sitting, head buried in her hands; trying not to think about whatever Lexa could be thinking, whatever she could be feeling.

“Yes.” It is feeble, at best, but it is the best she can do.

Bellamy sits down next to her and pulls her into another hug. She doesn’t cry, but she knew that if she could, in this moment, _she would_.

“What happened.”

He doesn’t really ask her this time, he states it, and she realises that she is tired of everything. Of hiding. There was no point anymore, in hoping. She had ruined everything, thrown it away carelessly, and it was only her doing now. Only her fault in the matter. She knew that.

Clarke pulls away from Bellamy and breathes shakily.

“I thought after Finn left, that would be it for me.” She doesn’t look at Bellamy, perhaps out of fear, or worse, that he knew exactly what she was going to say next. “I just didn’t expect her, and you know, when you don’t expect something it hits you harder.”

“Are you trying to say that you like her?”

“Yes.” She says it through gritted teeth, because even now, she is still too scared to say it out loud. “And I fell for her over and over again when it got harder to keep hating her. She grew on me and I wish.” Her eyes close and she exhales roughly, feeling everything she precisely wanted to avoid. “I _wish_ she didn’t.”

Bellamy doesn’t say much then, he looks at the floor quizzically, and then back at her.

“Forgive me if I’m being kind of oblivious or anything, but-” He tilts his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

“There are reasons, Bell.” She lets her head fall back slightly onto the bed, hoping that somehow, those reasons would actually _seem_ like reasons for once. “I can’t tell you certain things, but she’s been through a lot. So have I, we’re too different.”

“And?”

“And she’ll never see me that way, okay? She’ll never look at me and see me the way _I_ see her because she had someone like that before and she’s gone now.” Clarke sighs, “She’s gone, and I’m nothing. I’m just someone who hopelessly sees the world in a girl I don’t know half as well as I should.”

“You’re scared that she won’t like you back.”

Her head jerks up and she frowns at him. “Can you not do that?”

“Do what?”

“Try to make this out to be some kind of silly ‘fear of rejection’ thing. This is more than that.”

Bellamy scoffs, “If it was more than that, then why did you choose this week of all weeks to go MIA on her?” He holds her glance, “Why now? _What, happened_?”

“Okay. Stop that.” She gestures towards him, “Stop being smart, it’s weird.”

“Shut up.”

Clarke grunts, “I said some things I wish I could take back.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He smiles softly, “What did you say Clarke?”

She doesn’t want to repeat it, but if she’s gonna get anywhere, she knows she’s going to have to. Bellamy watches, waits, and she swallows nervously. Who knew that a couple of words could get her into such a mess?

“I basically said all the stuff I wanted to say in the first place.” She winces, as she remembers. Tells him about all the things she uttered that night, the way she clung to her as they slept; the way she hasn’t been able to get Lexa out of her mind almost instantly after she met her. She tells him everything, because somehow she’s been dying to tell _someone_.

Bellamy listens and listens, he never interrupts, never inputs any unecessary comment. He listens, and Clarke will never forget that. Somewhere along the way, she finishes. She breathes, because everything is out there now. Every single thought she convinced herself was better left unsaid, _was_ now said.

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath in, probably processing everything he had just heard, and clears his throat. “I don’t think you need to be worried.”

Clarke says nothing, but stares at him doubtfully.

“Seriously.” He reassures her, but she keeps the same expression strapped onto her face; to which he sighs. “Look.” He wraps his hands together and chuckles. “This is kind of like the thing with Raven and Octavia, everyone on the outside can see it; but they can’t. Why do you think everyone made those jokes about you and Lexa? Because we all saw it. All of us, except you two.”

She scoffs loudly and huffs, “First of all this is nothing like Raven and Octavia, I’m actually _admitting_ that I like her.”

“I meant the concept of everyone being able to see something that you don’t.”

Still, she doesn’t buy it. “Lexa has shown no interest in me, Bellamy.”

This time, he scoffs loudly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Well, you should be.” Bellamy’s head rests back onto her bed, “Lexa talks to all of us, _because_ she talks to you. Despite your weird ‘I hate you’ phase, she still opened up to you and trusted you, and you don’t need to know Lexa too well to know that she probably doesn’t do that often.”

“We’re good friends, Bellamy.”

He sighs an exasperated sigh at last, and gives up. “ _Regardless_.” He gives her an annoyed stare, and continues. “You need to explain this to her, there’s no point in avoiding her, Clarke. You’re not a little kid anymore, and we both know she deserves more than that.”

“ _Yeah_.” She rubs her eyes in exasperation, truly realising how immature she had been acting for the last couple of days. “Yeah she does.”

“If only I could apply half of the advise I just gave you to myself.” He sighs, “My life would be ten times less hassled.”

Clarke pats his head playfully, and pouts. “It’s not your fault you’re occasionally very stupid.”

“I just bought you a wrap, and gave you one of the best pep talks in existence.” He feigns anger, “Is this how you thank me?”

Clarke laughs and nods, “Pretty much.”

She hears her phone ring, and hopes, for a second, that it could be Lexa.

“Hey, Are you still hungry?” He pipes in, “I heard O and Raven are getting chinese take out, and I’m thinking of pooling in too.”

“Yeah sure.” She says somewhat absentmindedly, “I’ll be with you in a sec, go tell them what you want to order.”

Silently, she waits for him to leave and dashes towards her phone.

She’s not too surprised to see that Lexa didn’t message her, but nonetheless she isn’t too disappointed either when she sees a message from her mum instead.

_Mum 4:40 PM – Is everything okay honey? Haven’t heard from you in a while, tried calling too._

She thinks about calling her back, but there is too much to say, and she feels like she has spoken enough today; so she resorts to texting.

_Clarke 4:46 PM – Hey Mum, had a busy week, sorry about that._

_Clarke 4:46 PM – Can I ask you something?_

_Mum 4:47 PM – Of course._

_Clarke 4:48 PM – How did you know? When it was right with Dad? How did you know that what you were feeling at the time was real?_

_Mum 4:50 PM – You just know, Clarke, and if you’re asking me you must already know the answer yourself._

_Mum 4:51 PM – Are you sure everything is okay?_

_Clarke 4:53 PM – Yeah. It will be soon._

**

She hasn’t been this nervous since fifth grade.

This was like auditioning for a role in a play; except this time she felt like she was auditioning for some kind of failure instead.

The door was right there, the painting delicately held in her hand. She was ready, she _knew_ she was ready.

Except she wasn’t. She really wasn’t.

She didn’t even have it planned out. As soon as she finished the painting, she walked it to campus and then straight up to Lexa’s floor. No thought. Just pure action.

And now she was regretting it. Because Clarke was not impulsive unless she had to be.

Maybe, today, she had to be.

She knocks on the door and sees that her hand is shaking. Her breath is uneven, and she can feel her lungs dissipate with air every second she waits, every second she stares. Clarke thinks, that maybe she can’t really do this. That she cannot tell Lexa the truth, when there is so little of it that could possibly ever matter after what she did this week.

But it’s too late.

She sees her then.

Clarke realises her eyes are starved when she sees Lexa. Her mouth goes dry because the last thing she could possibly do in that moment, was talk. It was always a shame to Clarke, that Lexa’s hair wasn’t down as often. She thought about running her hands through it so many times; she was thinking about it right now.

She couldn’t think about that right now.

Lexa wasn’t pleased to see her.

It was obvious enough through her disposition alone, but even more so from her expression – and she made no effort in hiding it at all.

Clarke felt faint.

Lamely, she hands the painting to her. “I finished it.” She breathes in shakily, crumbling in Lexa’s severe gaze. “Thought you’d want to see the finishing product.”

She doesn’t take the painting. She doesn’t even spare her a glance.

“Thanks.”

Her tone is so callous, so abrubt, it sets Clarke back a little.

She really didn’t think this through.

“Listen.” She starts, hoping, that somehow she’d find a way to finish. “I’m sorry for last week, you didn’t deserve that, I was just caught up in my own mess and I was being stupid.” Her eyes plead now, because she cannot bring herself to say it. She cannot. “I _miss_ you. I missed you the whole time. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”

There’s a flash of something softening in her eyes as she says that, but it’s gone too quickly, and Clarke is met with the same blank stare all over again. Dead, and cold.

“It’s not enough.” She says it so simply, and yet the words hit Clarke like a ton of bricks.

Lexa begins to close the door on her, but panic rises up in Clarke. Panic, like she has never experienced before. She drops the painting and holds the door open with her hand frantically.

“Please, Lexa.” She pleads once again, knuckles white. “ _Please_. Just hear me out.”

She earns a long hard stare. Her breath is heavy, but she is desperate, she needs to do this now more than ever. She _cannot_ lose Lexa.

After what feels like an eternity, she opens the door wider and stands beside it.

Clarke quickly picks up the painting, and feeling the greatest kind of relief, walks into the dorm room.

The door closes abruptly behind her, and Lexa stands back against it, arms crossed – expectant. She was waiting for something better, and Clarke?

Clarke _knew_ she had to give it to her.

She places the painting down carefully onto her desk, and stands in front of Lexa. She bites her lip raw as she does her best to hold Lexa’s gaze and her hands fidget endlessly between themselves. Why was this so hard?

“Clarke.” Lexa asserts herself, and it leaves Clarke breathless all over again. “I let you in because I thought you’d have something else to say, if all you’re going to do is stare at me you can walk out, and stay there.”

“ _Okay_.” Clarke stops biting her lip and sighs roughly, “I’m trying, okay? Give me a moment, I just need to think about how I’m going to say this.”

She can see that Lexa is confused. _She’s_ confused. She didn’t think any of this through, she didn’t know how to tell someone that she was inexplicably enamoured with every single thing they did, with every single part of who they were. How do you do that? How do you expose yourself like that, and somehow walk out of it unscathed?

Clarke looks at Lexa again, looks at her for real this time, without thinking about how angry she must be with her. She looks at Lexa and she _sees_ her, like she always has. Like she always _will._

And the words come to her like everything she has ever lost before.

“When I said all those things last week, I meant every word.” She wasn’t thinking about anything else but this, now. She didn’t have to. “I just wasn’t supposed to say it. I wasn’t supposed to be so t _ransparent_.’ Her hands stop fidgeting then, and she feels strength in her words. “But I was. I always am with you. I say everything that comes to my mind, and it used to confuse me till no end until I realised why.”

Clarke held Lexa’s gaze, and she could see now, that Lexa was truly captivated in everything she was saying. She wanted her to be. She needed her to be, especially for this.

“You are everything I wanted in a person, Lexa.” She laughs quietly, “I didn’t even know what half of that was until I met you and I didn’t think it could happen like this, but you pulled out every part of me that ever wanted to stay put. You broke me, just so I could be put back together again.”

She isn’t finished yet. There was so much, _so_ , much to say.

“It’s not even the reason why I like you so much.” Clarke’s breaths are shaky, but she works through them. Tries not to think about the surprised look Lexa was completely dissolved in. “You are strong and kind and-” She has to stop herself. Has to think. “You are like everything I ever lost, everything I hoped I could ever find. I can’t stop thinking about you, Lexa. From the first day I met you, I never could.”

“Now I’m here, and I’m looking at you and I know that I should have never tried to distance myself from this.” She thinks about moving closer to Lexa, but stays put. “I thought I could have somehow stopped it. _I wasn’t thinking_. This isn’t an excuse, Lexa. It’s an explanation.”

She can finally breathe properly then. Every weight was off her chest, everything that had to be said, was said. It almost didn’t matter what Lexa had to say after.

Almost.

Clarke waits paitently for a semblance of an answer, but there is nothing. Lexa seemed to be suspended in her own world, pivoting endlessly in her own thoughts; with none to spare.

“Lexa?”

Her throat clogs up out of anticipation. Waiting, perhaps, for the worst.

Finally, she looks up. Her brow furrowed, eyes anything but compassionate. She seemed angry, angry like she had never seen her before.

“Did you ever stop to think that it was scary for me too?” Lexa’s voice was coarse with anger. It shocked Clarke, even more so than the gravity of the sentence itself. “Did you ever think, just for a second, Clarke, that I was going through hell thinking about this?” She cannot believe what she is hearing, cannot believe anything at all. “For a week, a _whole week_ Clarke, I thought the worst. I thought-” Lexa’s voice breaks at this, and it looks almost like she is fighting back tears. It breaks Clarke’s heart.  “I thought you left, just like everyone else did.”

“I know, and I’m-”

“ _No_.” Lexa’s voice richochets off of her, around her, through her. “No you don’t know. You have no fucking idea, Clarke.”

She stills then. Her eyes gravitate towards the floor, because she really did have no idea how much this affected Lexa. She was too damn busy thinking about herself.

“After Costia, I was gone. I was dead.” Her eyes were full to the brim with emotion, with feeling that Clarke couldn’t possibly ever understand. “I had it in my head that I would stay like that for the years to come, but you just had to change that for me. You just _had to_ turn everything upside down for me.”

“I told you this.” Lexa’s head silently touches the door behind her, and Clarke can hear a hitch in her breath. “What I didn’t tell you, was how you filled my head, my dreams, my heart. You made me feel something, after such a long time of feeling absolutely _nothing._ ”

“And if that wasn’t terrifying enough you made me hope. You let me believe that after all the _utter bullshit_ the universe had thrown at me, there was yet to be something good it could throw at me too.” Her eyes close, and she thinks, she could be crying. “Something worth getting the hell out of my bed for. Something worth trying again. _You_ did that, Clarke. You. Not Anya or Lincoln; _you_.”

Clarke walks closer, and she can see now, that there were tears spilling down the crevisses of both her cheeks. There are tears, she wish, could spill down her own.

Lexa looks at her and breathes shakily. “Without you, I could have been so much worse off. I knew that. _I put my trust in that_.” A sob escapes her, and she stifles it with her hand quickly, more tears travelling down. “So, you don’t get to just run away, because you’re scared.” Lexa’s eyes close, and her voice is frail now. Like the faintest of whispers. “ _You don’t_.”

Wordlessly, Clarke pulls her into her. She cannot think about stupid she has been all along. She doesn’t want to, doesn’t have to.

She already knows.

Her arms wrap around Lexa and she hugs her like she should have a week ago. She hugs her like it could be the last time, because it could be.

Lexa’s arms find their way around her too, and she is crying into her neck. Clarke holds her tight, tighter than she has ever held anyone, and she knows, that it will be so hard for her to let go. She realises, she cannot leave, not ever, not after today.

Clarke needs her.

They stay like that until her tears stop. She holds her until they can stop spinning into their own mayhem, until she can stop feeling her heart breaking for her.

She pulls away slowly, and wipes the tears from her eyes carefully. Her hands curl around the curviture above both her hears and she presses her forehead against Lexa’s, just like she had last time.

“I _do_ see you, Lexa.” She breathes, “You’re safe with me. I know it’s hard to believe that after this week, but you are _safe_. I can’t look back after this. Not ever.” Her lips find their way to her forehead, and she kisses her there, kisses her softly, so that she knows. “There is so much outside of here that is worth it, Lexa. It isn’t just me. I’m going to show you that, okay? We’re going to show each other that.”

“I wish.” Clarke’s fingers trace her cheek, and she is in awe. “I wish I could just tell you, what you mean to me.” Her lips graze her cheek, and she kisses her there too. “ _I wish_.” She is so close now. She can feel her breath on her lips, she can feel everything, eyes closed tight.

She stops holding back, stops thinking about all the things she wishes she did before, and does them now.

Their lips meet like long lost lovers in the rain, and it is all passion and desperation, all quiteness and thunder. Softness and the callous truths of their past are washed away and she cannot stop for one second. She doesn’t want to breathe. All she wants, all she ever wants, is to be here.

Lexa’s hands claw at her top, kneading her. She smiles then, and kisses her cheeks, covering her in them. It makes Clarke smile, it makes her feel full inside, not empty, like she has always felt. With Lexa, she is content. With Lexa, she is the best she has ever been.

With Lexa,

Clarke is whole.  


End file.
